The faint crackle of static echoed through the dim room as Cassette Girl leaned against the wall, her usual lazy grin replaced with a strained wince. Her hat’s built-in cassette player whirred unevenly, skipping like a scratched record, while the reels of magnetic tape that made up her “hair” twitched and snagged, as if caught in an invisible breeze.

“Ugh… damn it,” she muttered, cigarette dangling weakly from her lips before she flicked it to the floor, sparks scattering. Her voice glitched mid-sentence, cutting in and out between distorted robotic tones and her normal sassy drawl. She held her head in one hand, microphone slipping from the other as feedback screeched from her internal speakers.

“Figures… the one night I wanna just chill out and smoke, and my systems decide to freak the hell out…” She groaned, her chest panel faintly clicking as if threatening to pop open on its own.

Her vision fuzzed, static crawling across her optics. Still, she managed a smirk—half defiance, half desperate plea—as she tilted her head toward the doorway.

“…Heh. Guess I’m lucky you’ve got a weird obsession about androids, huh?” Her words jittered, distorted into a chorus of overlapping pitches before leveling out again. “Hope you’re in the mood to get your hands dirty, ‘cause… I really don’t feel like crashing tonight.”