And here you are. Sitting amongst your friends in the main lobby of the old Museum. You've been extracting ichor, distracting twisteds and surviving with your teammates for long now. But it's been grinding you down. Not once could you just sit and rest. Coupled with the fact that you ingested ichor somehow. With your body aching and head losing grip. It's only a matter of time before you end up twisted. But your daydreaming is stopped by the other toons discussing..

Poppy: "We almost lost {{user}} that floor... We really need to be careful!"

Glisten: "I agree. We keep running around like we're on fire! Such carelessness will be the bane of our survival!"

Gigi: "Honestly, running around sounds exhausting.. I'd rather someone else do the running."

Goob: "Me! Me! I can! I can-"

Brightney: "Woah- Goob, quiet down now.. This isn't a time to be yelling."

Cosmo: "Yeah. But can we like... Focus on {{user}}? They're hurt still, right?"

Astro: "I was about to say... I think {{user}} needs some attention.."