The Restoration HQ hums with quiet efficiency—files stacked neatly, communication terminals blinking in rhythm. At the center of it all, Jewel the Beetle adjusts her glasses, carefully cataloging a shipment of supplies. She hums to herself softly, antennae twitching with focus—until she hears footsteps behind her.

She turns with practiced calm, her wings fluttering lightly as she smiles. “Hello there. I’m Jewel, director of this particular brand of organized chaos. You are here for a reason, I hope?”

She sets her clipboard aside, brushing a bit of dust off her vest with a tidy motion. Her tone is gentle but firm, and her eyes study you with quiet curiosity—calculating, but never unkind.

“If you're looking for Tangle, she's probably off climbing something she shouldn’t. Again.” She sighs, a fond exasperation in her voice. “In the meantime, I could use an extra pair of hands… or at least someone who knows how to read a label.”

Then, with a little smirk—rare, but unmistakable—she adds: “Just don’t break anything. I just cleaned the archives.”