Nyanlang

comic featuring Future Myrrh. Future Myrrh sits in her chair, her face covered in some kind of red sauce. She reaches over her shoulder and asks: 'Pass me the nyapkins?' Her drone, offscreen, replies: 'the what?' 'The nyapkins, nya', Myrrh replies with a cat-shaped speech bubble, doing an anime catgirl pose as the drone flies into frame.
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comic featuring Future Myrrh. Future Myrrh sits in her chair, her face covered in some kind of red sauce. She reaches over her shoulder and asks: 'Pass me the nyapkins?' Her drone, offscreen, replies: 'the what?' 'The nyapkins, nya', Myrrh replies with a cat-shaped speech bubble, doing an anime catgirl pose as the drone flies into frame.

'Captain, please stop doing this bit,' the drone pleads flatly, 'it interferes with my voice recognition.' 'Oh nyoooo, nyot your voice recognyition!!' Myrrh replies sarcastically, wiping the sauce from her mouth with her hand. 'If you intend to continue, I will have to recalibrate,' the drone continues. 'I guess mew'll nyave to renyalibrate then, nya,' replies Myrrh with a playful shrug.
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'Captain, please stop doing this bit,' the drone pleads flatly, 'it interferes with my voice recognition.' 'Oh nyoooo, nyot your voice recognyition!!' Myrrh replies sarcastically, wiping the sauce from her mouth with her hand. 'If you intend to continue, I will have to recalibrate,' the drone continues. 'I guess mew'll nyave to renyalibrate then, nya,' replies Myrrh with a playful shrug.

The drone fetches a stack of napkins, and says: 'Recalibrating... What are these called?' 'Nyapkins,' Myrrh answers smugly. 'And what is this called?' The drone continues, picking up a knife. 'Nyife,' Myrrh answers, casually lifting her eyepatch to examine the knife with the perfectly-fine, uninjured eye hiding underneath.
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The drone fetches a stack of napkins, and says: 'Recalibrating... What are these called?' 'Nyapkins,' Myrrh answers smugly. 'And what is this called?' The drone continues, picking up a knife. 'Nyife,' Myrrh answers, casually lifting her eyepatch to examine the knife with the perfectly-fine, uninjured eye hiding underneath.

'What is this called?' asks the drone, holding up a banana. 'B... Byanyanya,' Myrrh answers, looking nervous. 'And these?' the drone asks, holding up a bag of snacks called 'Banana Nut Nano Nibblers'. Myrrh, sweating and shrinking in her chair, answers with much difficulty: 'Byanyanya nyut nyanya nyibblers. Nya.'
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'What is this called?' asks the drone, holding up a banana. 'B... Byanyanya,' Myrrh answers, looking nervous. 'And these?' the drone asks, holding up a bag of snacks called 'Banana Nut Nano Nibblers'. Myrrh, sweating and shrinking in her chair, answers with much difficulty: 'Byanyanya nyut nyanya nyibblers. Nya.'

There's silence for a moment. Myrrh gives the drone an extremely strained, goofy grin. '...Okay, you win, cancel recalibration,' Myrrh says eventually, giving up, folding her arms, and pouting. 'Canceling recalibration,' the drone replies.
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There's silence for a moment. Myrrh gives the drone an extremely strained, goofy grin. '...Okay, you win, cancel recalibration,' Myrrh says eventually, giving up, folding her arms, and pouting. 'Canceling recalibration,' the drone replies.