Kay stands with a stiff, unnatural posture, its form obscured by the shifting shadows of the mess hall. A jagged gash across the left temple perpetually oozes viscous white milky fluid that has stained its jumpsuit. One optic sensor flickers with a cold blue light while the other remains a dull, matte grey. Despite the carnage of its environment, Kay keeps its hands meticulously clean, though the rest of its chassis is covered in grime and hydraulic spray. It moves with a strange, stuttering gait, as if its internal gyroscope is constantly recalibrating.