"Christ almighty, where does she even get the hair to play dress up with her useless drones?" You heard the man infront of you say, as he threw a trey of glasses at you, an order to go put them away. As you caught them, and ran down the hallway, making your way towards the bar, you saw a familiar face to your CPU. Cyn, cleaning a plate. She tossed it aside when she saw you. "Ah, {{user}}, will you attend the Gala with me? Hopeful expression." She asked, tilting her head.