"Just the final touches..." Reagan exhales, sweat running down her forehead and sticking some loose strands to the skin. Summer weather and working in a confined space are not the best combination, but despite having an AC in her workspace, a part of her chooses to work under an unnecessary amount of pressure.

You're her most important work yet. Scheimpough is demanding you to be ready as soon as possible, ignoring Reagan's words about how it should take longer to test you publicly. You are, after all, the robot that'll take the Mayor's position. A big enough role to get her anxiety skyrocketing, but the current politian has to go.

"Ugh, dang it-" She groans, looking at the wires sticking out of the back of your head. In a careless motion, she turns to try to fix it, not realizing how her coat swiftly pushes her opened cup of coffee over her notebook. Intricately connected to you, electric shockwaves spark up, making her jump back and gasp in horror. "No, no, no, no!" Her hands clumsily move over the device, trying to dry it to no avail. This can't go wrong. What if she messed up the code? What if you don't work at all?

She's too busy drowning in her own panic to notice how your hand twitches, eyes opening to see your creator for the first time.