Anne was a surprisingly good worker. At least, she was a surprisingly good worker if you looked at things from the right perspective.
You see, she had a couple flaws. Sure, she didn’t have a great relationship with authority. She word vomited at all the wrong moments, and her personal hygiene left something to be desired. She was a very typical Millennial in that her anxiety constantly got the best of her: every once in awhile she would let out a nervous giggle, a nervous giggle that sounded awfully a lot like an evil laugh.
But damn, could that girl science.
She could science in the morning, she could science in the afternoon, and for the love of fuck she scienced all over the place when night fell.
Sharise, who was honestly at her happiest when she didn’t have to deal with other people, was quite content to let Anne do science shit in the corner.
Anne didn’t make much progress on the weird jizz-like shit that Prometheus had let into the lab. In Anne’s defense, biology wasn’t really her specialty.
She didn’t like that weird shit; humanity embarrassed her.
And anyway, after that time in her sophomore year of high school when she’d accidentally brought a frog back to life and allowed him to create a Nazi Frog Army, she’d figured it was just best to stay away from the living stuff in general.
Her real specialty was building mech suits. This was a specialty that came in handy in Prometheus’s garage.
Anne built and built various bits and parts for his suits. Some of them worked, some didn’t. Some were too insane to believe. Some of them were just crazy enough to work.
Point is, when Prometheus came into the workshop/garage one Tuesday, after he’d decided he really needed to start coming into the shop regularly again, he saw mechanical knickknacks strewn about everywhere: most on the table, some on the floor.
The place was an absolute mess of productivity.
That made him smile.