Seems like I'm not the only one stuttering about this formal event. That makes me feel better, but doesn't solve much. Maybe I'll try wearing a suit? I know what my tastes are, but slutbomb clothing ain't appropriate.
Adam needs to keep pushing me to do things I don't want to do. It's bad enough that he's let the critters out of the ship to play, now he's telling me to socialize, make friends, smile. He needs to shut the hell up already and let me do things at my own pace. He's a computer now so he has no idea how awkward all of this is for me. Life was so much simpler when I was detonating bombs and firing missiles at things. Explosions are easier to deal with than people. At least I did make something I can call a friend today, a man named Balthier. A friendship based off hacking and a general disgruntled attitude seems okay. He's also a man who isn't trying to get into my shorts, and he isn't afraid of me because of who I am. The name "Samus Aran" doesn't seem to ring any bells here, thankfully.