Rosie wants to polish Velma's helmet.

Velma watched Rosie's sputtering session with some concern, despite the robot's reassurance. It was hard to just ignore an appliance's clear malfunction... then again, Rosie seemed like more than an ordinary robot. Maybe, like her accent, this was just a verbal tic? "I mean, look at Speed Buggy. He had a stutter and he ran just fine! More or less, anyway..." She tried to put it out of her mind and focus on unraveling the mystery. "I've got questions up to my eyeballs, Rosie. Why does your boss want to see you clean this silly armor?"

The robot beeped, her head clicking in rotation a couple of times before coming to a stop and returning her to her friendly self. "Your guess is as good as mine, although I gotta say: it ain't a flatterin' look for a pretty young thing like you. Maybe a good spit-shine'll clean it up nice! That's a joke, by the way. We robots ain't got much use for spit," she noted, sticking a red, rectangular metal piece from her mouth that seemed to function as a tongue.

"But you do have a tongue?" Velma remarked, reaching up to scratch her head. Of course, it only ended up tapping on the fancy tin can she was wearing. "Well, I've got no complaints handing over my funny foil hat. I'm not planning on fighting any aliens any time soon." She grabbed the sides of her helmet and found it lifted easily straight up and off. When it was in her armored mitts and her brown hair had spilled around the sides of her face again, she turned it around to inspect it, pleased to find her glasses made her able to do so without putting it right up to her eyes. "Super light-weight... I know it's made of metal, but it's hard to believe." Velma tried pushing in it from both sides. To her surprise, she felt it starting to dent. "Sheesh! Guess I don't know my own strength," she thought with a gulp. She handed it over to Rosie quickly, hoping neither the robot nor her employer would notice her guilty smile or the deformation.

"Thank you very much, Ms. V," Rosie took the damaged helmet in one claw, producing a spray bottle from a slot in her hip. It looked just like the kind any maid would use, only modified to be operated in a robot's pincer. She spritzed a bit of cleaning fluid onto the helmet, set her bottle on the counter, then reached into her hip pocket again and produced a cleaning cloth. She began wiping down the helmet with a mechanical whirring as her arm circled. "Y'know, even a robot takes pride in her appearance, so I'm a real pro at polishin' to a sheen. The key is you just gotta put in some elbow-bow-bow elbow grease! And nobody's got better-greased elbows than me."

Velma nodded, her eyes widening as she watched Rosie work. For the robot's own sake, she hoped that cleaning technique had nothing to do with how she cleaned herself. As Rosie's arms picked up speed, she was pulverizing the helmet, what Velma was now thinking of as a costume piece instead of armor. It wouldn't be protecting much of anything after this cleaning session.

Rosie brought her arm to a stop, looking at the sparkling, shiny silver scrap metal that remained in her head. "Oh gosh. Guess I don't know my own strength! I'm so sorry about that- Huh? You're fine with it? ... Mr. S says he ain't mad about it if you aren't. You aren't mad about it, Ms. V? You look a lot cuter without it, if I may say!"

Velma didn't disagree. She fussed at her hair for just a moment, trying to reshape it from her short-lived helmet head. She had bigger things on her mind than her fashion. "I'm a little worried about the strength of those cleaning products of yours. For my health, I think it's best if you clean 'em when they're off of me."

"Crystal clear, Ms. V." She paused, putting a "hand" to the side of her "face." "Oh... Uh, Mr. S says 'let's see where the show takes us.' He says he's 'hoping for better numbers and more excitement.' Can't blame him for wantin' somethin' more excitin' than little ol' me crushin' tin cans."

"I still haven't unraveled what you mean by 'gameshow.' Wait. This is the future, right? Maybe entertainment in the future is just that far out... I have trouble keeping up with the trends, even in my own time period."

Rolled 2!

Outfit durability: 26/28 (Armor on chest, shorts, gauntlets, boots; hi-tech glasses)