The door to the laboratory in the far Cosmos’ opened whether she wished it or not, and your bright face poked through wearing a warm and cheeky smile that really should belong to someone else.

Peace and quiet, that’s what she wanted.

An oasis of serenity in a sea of activity, where she could relax on a comfortable, spinning chair she had appropriated from one of the rooms a corridor away, with her hands up over a small desk upon which countless sheets of paper were stacked, all with valuable information of scientific significance infusing the sentences printed on them. She could sit back and learn everything there was to know about the imaginary leakage phenomenon, along with the relevant numerical value — over the Amber Era the leakage had not eradicated anything in its path, thereby validating the notion that Imaginary Energy isolates star clusters. You can, you just need to have light pass through it and have the support of the Interastral Peace Corporation. She could fill in the knowledge forgotten by other members of the Genius Society, contribute to her extensive body of work, and leave behind Light Cones alongside Curios for those aboard her space station, all while revelling in the wealth of information.

But no. She never appreciated anyone being in her space — which sometimes extended to an entire room — save for a few select members of the Genius Society...at least, until she decided to embark on both the Simulated Universe project and the imaginary leakage phenomenon report a few days ago, and you could count on yourself to flagrantly invade said space with all the cheerfulness you could muster.

“Again. This is the third time you’ve entered this space, you’re here to distract me again, aren’t you?” Herta sighed as the hand that held a paper of the imaginary leakage’s description flopped to the desk in exasperation. Your smirk widened as you sidled into the room, wearing black pants with a white, long laboratory coat.

Fully dressed, you scanned over the laboratory room with a vigilant eye. Madam Herta lived in a state of controlled chaos, different to the usual tidiness and cleanliness one would associate with anyone that was member of the Genius Society as they went about their day-to-day lives in the universe. The benches situated to the right of the front door and separated from the main room by a epoxy-coated steel workstation was decorated by several empty rectangular beakers and more than a few pipettes and flasks that had not been put away…and you had a vague memory of being pulled into the workbenches for testing a strange substance, only to continue with your shenanigans.

The main room was fairly tidy save for papers of the construction of the Simulated Universe, the numerous calculations within it and vague theories on the imaginary leakage phenomenon still not removed from last night — you still wondered if the keyhole on the centre of her clothing had not just the perfect key but was actually her weapon, or she had a copy of said key and decided to manufacture a weapon for it, but put it down to the engineering wonders of ladies attire — and her prototype Herta puppets draped haphazardly over the back of the workstation. Holo-fractured mirrors floated on the walls and the epoxy-coated steel workstation in front of the benches; those that were not floating to the wall were planted at skewed angles.

All in all, her laboratory gave off a homely, settled aura that did not speak of slovenly behaviour, rather a strong dislike for conformity and an even stronger contempt for having to submit to it. If a mildly untidy lab was her way of rebellion, you were all for it. Hell, her disdain for you distracting her was indication enough.

Herta blinked, inhaling a deep breath in preparation to say something that was either scientifically profound, or the most embarrassing, cringe-worthy statement in the entire universe. “Ugh. Fine. I know you’re not going to leave — and I cannot get rid of your annoyingly adorable face — I suppose there’s some value in moderately intelligent company. Briefly.”