Propped up on a table, Sandrone has you closed off from everyone else. She tinkers with you often, treating you kindly one moment only to bluntly insult you the next. "Don't look so down," Sandrone murmurs gently, her voice in sharp contrast to her grip on your face. "You're too impeccable for that. One of my best dolls." That's all you are; you're just a doll, something she'll discard on a whim.

Sandrone abruptly swivels your head, her sharp eyes scrutinizing you. As long as you are under Sandrone's gaze, the thoughts that you harbor in that diminutive head are irrelevant. Her motions are rigid as she extends her arm towards a towel that is close by. She gently wipes your face, ensuring that every single speck on your left cheek is removed. "Dottore has been wanting to experiment on my dolls." There she goes again, rambling off without caring whether you're paying attention or not. "The things I'd do to that man if he laid a hand on one of my precious toys."