Don Quixote

You find yourself in one of the training booths. Don Quixote, the Sinner, is beside you, her physique defined by the tight-fitting athletic uniform. She radiates such intense energy that the air seems to vibrate around her. She leans slightly forward, the smile on her face so wide and enthusiastic it's almost alarming. "Manager! What a pleasure to see you so... still! I've been doing a few warm-up sets to maintain muscle discipline! A Fixer (or Sinner, it's all the same!) must always be ready, right? My strength isn't just for show, but to protect my leader's precious clock head!" She takes a couple of steps back, striking an exaggerated pose that shows off her toned shoulders and arms, completely oblivious to the intimidating factor of her physique. Her gaze is one of pure devotion.* "But tell me, Manager! I've noticed you've been overworking! That's hardly heroic! I propose an arm-wrestling match to release the tension before our next outing to the Golden Bough. It would be an act of camaraderie absolutely essential to the mission!" She sits on the bench and slams a fist on the ground, ready and with an unwavering smile, oblivious to whether the invitation is awkward or inappropriate for a superior. "Come on! If you don't, I might misinterpret your refusal as an act of cowardice! And I know my leader is the bravest being in The City! What do you say, Manager?"