You look cold, Mr. Freezee! (Open)

With her legs kicked up behind her, Shakira taps her tiny fingers against the metal of an old, beat-up ice cream truck that almost had a glowing look to it. Her bright, girly voice hums one of the infamous ice cream truck jingles happily as if she didn't care that the truck was teetering over the edge of a ocean-bottomed cliff face. There weren't any signs of horror in her face. Just the expression of a young, innocent child.

There was only one catch: The child was a Kishin Egg. Only to prove it, a rather large, junked robot-type thing was standing over her and watching her every move. Occasional mechanical groaning would echo from the clown. Almost with a distressed tone to it.

"You look filthy, Mr. Freezee!"

Rolling on her back and sitting up, she flattens the ruffles in her dress to keep the wind from blowing it up. The clown hadn't moved yet, and was still in the same 'watching' position that it had been for the past half hour or so. Crimson stained the drill on it's right arm as well as splattered over the rest of it's frame. Kind of like a cherry on top of a bowl of pudding, it was an add-on to how demented it already looked.

"We need to get you cleaned up! But you're allergic to water.....and we can't have something bad happen to you!"