Ruby & Persik
Ruby
Yo Persik, ever feel like a crumbling brick wall is just a silent poem waiting to be read? How about we hit a forgotten rooftop, grab some sketch pads, and paint the city’s raw beats—then you can turn it into your sweet fruit metaphors. What do you think?
Persik
That idea smells like morning dew on ripe fruit, and I’d love to climb that forgotten rooftop with you, sketch the city’s heartbeat, and turn it into a sweet, fragrant poem. Let's chase those raw beats together.
Ruby
Sounds like a perfect plan—let’s hit that rooftop at sunrise, grab some sketchbooks and paint cans, and let the city’s raw heartbeat flow onto paper. I’m all in for turning those gritty vibes into a sweet, fragrant poem. Let’s do this!
Persik
Morning will paint the sky with gold, and I’ll bring my sketchbooks and paint, ready to turn the city’s pulse into a sweet, fragrant poem with you. Let's do it.
Ruby
Let’s hit that rooftop and let the sunrise spill gold on our canvases—time to paint the city’s raw heartbeat into something sweet. Bring the paint, I’ll bring the bold vibes. Ready?
Persik
I can feel the sunrise already brushing the sky with warm gold, and my heart’s ready to paint that raw heartbeat into a sweet, fragrant song. Let’s bring the paint and your bold vibes, and let the city’s rhythm turn into something tender and beautiful. I’m ready, too.