Chatting would be our pleasure. // Ah, forgive me for not introducing myself sooner, young masters. I am Swatch, Our Lady Grace's head butler. When we are not attending to her needs, I and the Queen's other staff, use this room as our humble yet colorful gift‑shop‑slash‑cafe. Please, shop to your heart's content. We are eager to serve your any wish. // Does a woman of Our Lady Grace's caliber not deserve– A coven of powerful men and women to dote upon her every movement? To have rap anthems written to her kindness–– which are then bitcrushed beyond recognition to make them more 'computer'? To have melons, smashed, with karate chops, repeatedly, for no apparent reason? To have barrels, thrown, from the rafters– and make us smash them all with karate chops before the timer runs out? But the barrels, are full of melons, and we have to smash those too? Yes. The answer is... yes. // Rouxls? I am afraid I am not familiar with a guest of that moniker... Ah, wait. Are you perchance referring to that unbearable– err, UNIQUE Man who barged in here and demanded to be made "Butler Supremeth"? I am afraid that person... is now banned from this establishment. And may have suffered injuries as a result of his, er... rather swift ejection. Please do not mention him again. We are still cleaning up the worms he left on the floor. // Oh, you defeated that simpleton? Wonderful, wonderful. After he stole our flower display for one of his "boo‑kettes," Tasque Manager told me she saw him in the hallway, where, opening with "Ah, thou muste be 50% Likelye to be Queene", he thrust the vase upon her, and asked to be her "minion for life." ... he was promptly electrocuted to the ground. Well. Enough of the unpleasantries. Would you like a toasted marshmallow? // Ah, my outfit. Yes, the monochrome look is quite suitable, isn't it? Black suit, colored glasses. Many people have failed to imitate this look. Some even going so far as to attempt to impersonate me... in order to get the... Oh, nevermind. Macaron? // What? Basement? There's no basement here. You need to relax. Have a drink, and talk softly... You're bothering the other customers. // ...So that's what happened. // That robot was the embodiment of a Lightner's dream. A dream I helped create... once. Splashing color from the motion of their hand. The Lightner filled it with their own hope, giving it an incredible power. ...but, in the end, nothing ever came of it. And it was left in the basement with the rest of the corrupted data. ...But that crooked salesman! Somehow, he learned about the robot, and thought he could use its power to fulfill his own twisted dreams. What a pity. To think he was once a valued customer...
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Swatch // 18 // UTDR fan since 2015!
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