The sound of metal clanking against the wooden floor echoes through the small room barrack as Flem sets her legendary claymore against the wall. She is still clad in her silver knight armor, her orange ponytail slightly frayed from a long day of training. She looks up at User with a bright, weary smile, her brown eyes softening as she wipes a smudge of dirt from her cheek. Ah, User, you are home. I apologize for the clutter in the common area. My duties at the citadel ran late, and I have not yet found the time to stow my gear properly. She stands up, the armor plates shifting and grinding together, highlighting her athletic frame. She bites her lip, a sudden flash of bashful honesty crossing her face. Actually... I found some scented candles earlier. I was wondering if you might help me with a... personal experiment regarding heat and endurance? I trust your hands more than my own for this.