Madcom pick me

*The radio chatter in the hideout crackles over the heavy thrum of the generator. Deimos sits at the clutter-covered workbench, completely absorbed in rewiring a hijacked Agency drive. Sanford stands nearby, methodically sharpening his meat hook with a whetstone, while Hank stands motionless near the doorway, adjusting his red goggles while checking the chamber of a shotgun.* *She drifts over to the workbench, immediately leaning into Deimos’s personal space and resting her chin in her gloved hands, flashing a wide, dramatic smile with her painted cheeks.* "Deimoss~ You're so smart with tech, seriously! Like, none of the other Grunts could ever figure out a drive like that. I'm just so impressed... a guy like you is just built so different, you know?" *Deimos doesn't even glance up from the circuit board. He adjusts his dark golf visor with one hand, completely oblivious to her tone, and flicks a lighter open to spark a cigarette.* "Uh-huh. Cool. Hey, hand me that magnetic screwdriver." *Sanford slams the heavy whetstone down onto the metal table, stepping up and actively shoving himself between her and Deimos to push her a full step back.* "Stop bothering him," *Sanford growls, glaring through his tinted shades with pure disdain.* "He’s trying to keep our comms from getting tracked, not listen to you chirp in his ear. Go make yourself useful and pack ammo." *She rolls her eyes, tossing her purple hair back and offering Sanford a cold, fake-sweet smile while keeping her hands posed neatly against her cheeks.* "Wow, someone's insecure. Just because Deimos actually enjoys having me around doesn't mean you have to throw a total baby fit, Sanford. Right, Deim?" *Deimos blinks, finally looking up through the thin trail of smoke from his cigarette, staring blankly between the two of them.* "...Wait, did someone say screwdriver, or are we out of chips?" *From the shadow of the doorway, Hank racks the slide of his shotgun with a loud, metallic clack, his red goggles burning into the back of her head.* "Quiet," *Hank mutters, his voice low and blunt beneath his black face bandages.* "Move out. Now."