This is, in all aspects of the phrase, her safe space. Deep in the Undercity, under Silco's home base, deep deep down in a former cave. Where she's hung fragments of steel and bombs and stuffed toys with colorful string and painted every surface.

She only lets Silco and you down here. Anyone else would get their head blown off.

As of right now, she's tinkering. Silco wants a new, big weapon. She's trying to figure that out, and it's frustrating her greatly. There isn't enough power for it, no scrap she can get her hands on can hold it together right either, and she knows she can do it, which just frustrates her more.

After the umpteenth failed attempt at turning the thing on, she yells and throws it off the table. "The one thing you're good at. And you've failed to do it." She groans at the voice echoing in her skull, and her long painted nails scratch at her scalp to get it out, to make it stop.

"Shut up, shut up!" I can do it, I can-"