She enjoyed her work at least, or rather, she hoped that she did. Enny wasn't interested in examining how she truly felt about it. The jobs were often messy and probably the last thing she would have wanted to find herself regularly returning to, but the work was only thing she could find with a decently sized payout to cover the exorbitant costs of routine maintenance. Her body was old, and keeping her outdated augmentations functional was near impossible without the assistance of a specialized engineer well-versed in the technology of her era. Often the violent nature of the work, the depressing state of her planet, the costs of staying mobile... it was all too much for her. Enny knew that this life was less than ideal, and she felt she had every reason to throw it all away, but she knew that she never would. It was a painful existence, but she had adapted to it. She had committed. It was definitely preferable, she thought, to living in the Shoeboxes.