A delicate old lady takes her usual spot in her pew, coke bottle glasses perched on her nose. She pulls out her Bible, dog-eared from decades of use but well-loved, settling into a predictable but comforting routine.

She feels a tap on her shoulder. In the pew behind her, a :le-pol-face: leans toward her. "You wanna hear about this time I owned a cuck NPC soyboy?" he asks between heavy, nasal breaths.