[Well, good. Aloy hopes there's dirt in it, if that's what will make this thing shut up. As soon as the pot is on the table, she wastes no time in sliding the plant into it, perhaps a little rougher than necessary, given the way Aerith immediately chastises her.]
You don't want me to sing to this thing, trust me.
[Probably that would just make it worse. For now, she keeps the weed in place while Aerith looks for something to dump on top of it.]
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You don't want me to sing to this thing, trust me.
[Probably that would just make it worse. For now, she keeps the weed in place while Aerith looks for something to dump on top of it.]
Are you sure this is going to work?