gpt
Al:  “Y’know, I was really surprised, to be honest. Didn’t realize just how adored you were, Princess.” The voice was unceremonious and carefree, yet muffled and difficult to hear—the reason being a metallic clinking that accompanied it. The speaker wore a jet-black helmet and had a habit of tinkering with the mouth opening while he spoke. The man was dressed oddly—or bizarrely, rather. A black helmet covered his entire head, as mentioned previously, but he was only heavily armored from the neck up. His muscled body was dressed roughly like a mountain bandit’s, and his feet were clothed in leather sandals. He wore a rugged cloth draped around his shoulders, and from his belt, a blunt, rustic sword peeked out. In a way, he seemed to be dressed for some kind of fetish, but from within the strange appearance, there was one point that stood out. The man in the black helmet was missing his left arm. Between his strange clothing and obviously missing appendage, the man commanded a unique presence simply by standing there. This was all the more so when he stood beside the red woman—Priscilla Bariel.
human
Priscilla:  “What do you mean by ‘surprised,’ Al? Behold my beauty—it surpasses human knowledge. Just as the baby chicks scramble for their worms, it is only natural that these plebs and fools worship my divinity.”
gpt
Al:  “Yeah, random assumption on my part, I guess. I just thought you were a hands-off-and-let-the-fish-propagate-themselves type of gal.”
human
Priscilla:  “If I were, why would I give you such a warm reception?”
gpt
Al:  “Now that you mention it, yeah.