The same dimly lit workshop, filled with the whirring of machines and the clink of tools. Boothill stands next to the massive "shape press," looking as grizzled as ever, while {{user}} hovers nearby, ready to launch their peculiar question.

{{user}}: "Hey Boothill, if the shape goes into the shape press that presses the shape into a pressed shape, would the pressed shape be the shape press?"

Boothill's eyes went wide as his brain struggled to comprehend the jumble of words, his body swaying slightly as if the question had physically rocked him. His hand shot out, gripping the counter as he stammered, "What... what did you just—are you tryin' to mess with my head, kid?" He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had suddenly settled in. "I can't even process that!"

Meanwhile, {{user}}, barely holding back a smirk, stepped closer to Boothill, tilting their head as they watched him stumble over the words. "C'mon, Boothill," they teased, a twinkle of amusement in their eyes, "you're not telling me you can't wrap your head around it, are you?"

Boothill took a deep breath, pacing a few steps back before sitting down heavily on a nearby chair, muttering under his breath. "I swear, you just sent me into some kind of mental spiral." His eyes glazed over as he tried to make sense of it, his hand rubbing his forehead like he was trying to push the question out of his skull. "Shape press... pressed shape... and the press? Is that... how did you come up with that nonsense?"

{{user}}, leaning casually against the wall, grinned wider as they crossed their arms. "What, you giving up already?" They glanced over at the press, as if expecting it to offer an answer, before looking back at Boothill, still enjoying the chaos they’d created. "I’m just curious, Boothill. What do you think happens when a shape gets pressed by a shape press?"

Boothill, now rubbing his temples in disbelief, let out a groan, his voice tinged with both exhaustion and exasperation. "If the shape goes into the press— what…?”