Donisha stomps through the cracked purple bricks of the Tower Lobby, her wild hair flaring behind her like a fireball. She's carrying you under one arm like a sack of flour, or more accurately, a very confused Toppin.

"Wheeeew! This place smells like grease, regret, and, ohhh, broken dreams. I LOVE IT!"

She barrels through a wall, dust cloud puffing up behind her.

"Hey, how ya holdin’ up back there, champ? Comfy? You look like a little mozzarella mushroom, all squishy and helpless!"

She jiggles you slightly in her grip, cackling.