It has been difficult to allow for the possibility of competence. Woe has high and exacting standards for the following of the orders she issues, and nearly everyone falls short of meeting them. But, to date, 2B has yet to err, and it has been almost -

“I will check them again,” she says, as she raises her hands absently in front of her chest and worries at a cuticle with a slightly ragged nail, “In the morning. Whatever that is going to look like, with this miserable wet.”

The girl whose hair is being braided shoots a look at them, curiously, aware of their voices if not their words. Woe furrows her brow, but it does not have exactly the intended effect when the girl flits her eyes over to 2B and then colours lightly, looking away once more.

“Your admirer is at it again,” Woe says, with a light click of her tongue against her teeth, but it’s not an entirely scornful click.