Tagging Ruya Aras (<a class="username" data-user-id="18515" data-username="@BennyQ" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/community/members/18515/">@BennyQ</a>)<br/><br/>“Depleted uranium slugs?  Wouldn’t those punch clean through the hull of the station, if combat is required?”  In truth, AMZN-T108m302 was perfectly aware of the risks of using armor-piercing rounds inside a pressurized facility. But a small display of ignorance was useful when attempting to set humans at ease. “But, then, I’d guess that only anti-personnel rounds are being issued?”<br/><br/>Instead of answering, Ruya did the unexpected - for a convict-soldier at least - and asked a question of her own. “And yourself? Do they arm you or do you serve some<i>other</i>function beyond meet-and-greet? It won't be much fun if you were turned into spare parts accidentally, Ami.”<br/><br/>“Indeed not,” Ami laughed. “I’ve been partially reconstructed before, due to damage sustained in the course of my functions.”  She smiled, the synthetic musculature of her face allowing her to mimic the expression perfectly. “Which, as you guessed, are not limited to ‘meet and greet’. I serve as Mrs. Herd’s personal assistant, facilitating appointments, attending to her needs, and ensuring she is not inconvenienced by the mundanities of existence.”<br/><br/>Her eyes turned towards the rifle once more. “And, when necessary, I also serve as her bodyguard. Although she has been assigned a human member of the Forge to serve the same function.”<br/><br/>Her attention returned to Raya. “I...” Synthetic eyes focused on the woman's surgical scars, and prohibition subroutines initiated to prevent her from speaking for an instant.<i>I am a slave. Like you.</i><br/><br/>Another smile. “It was a delight to meet you, Mrs. Aras. Perhaps we may speak again at dinner?”