"Oh, of course. Just like the Captain built whatever Friday is to probably deal with all our whining and general emotions," Ava figures that's the purpose of customer service desks, after all. Why not build a robot nanny when you clearly don't view the children you bought as anything but opportunity to exploit.

"... Good, fuck the moon," Ava proclaims because that's a whole thing around here, shaking the machine a bit to get a prize that fell short of the hole to topple over the edge. She's not above cheating. Have another plushie, Klaus, as she hums along in acknowledgment to him airing out the dirty laundry of his apparently very dysfunctional family.

"I don't know. You seem the type. Dead and lizardy." She wiggles the handle and picks up the barrel of a gun, with little luck as it slips right out of the handle. She tries again.