Iman has decided to continue her stroll toward the terrace, and is doing so when what the fucking shit is up with her arm holy god damn. She reels to a halt as her left forearm suddenly flips up at the elbow, nearly clobbering her in the mouth, all on its own. She stares at it, half stunned and half freaked, as her hand opens and closes, and the arm flips back down. She tries to control its movement, but - it feels like... something is jamming the circuitry maybe? Shit, people can't see her like this. She turns inward sharply, gripping her wrist, scrabbling to get her fingers on the control panel. Stupid thing is always so hard to open. Partly because the arm almost never needs maintenance. Eleven years working perfectly and now this? Fuuuuck.

Before she can actually do anything, the fingers suddenly split open, her multitudinous internal instruments sliding out and configuring themselves. She jerks her arm away from her as though she's been stung, staring at it, wide-eyed. That definitely can't happen without her express intent. Or manually, internally. Something is inside her arm. Has she been infected??

Muttering a slew of freshly coined curses under her breath, she struggles awkwardly with the arm. She needs to deactivate it, which'll be a holy pain in the ass, but it's that or accidentally spear her own eyes out when if flails around again. She hopes no one's watching. This is so embarrassing.