Ramie stands over the utility manhole, golf balls bouncing harmlessly off her rigid body and wings. She looks down at the tech, handing them tools as they need them. The barrage of golf balls intensifies and she begins thinking out loud.

Ramie: I don't know why they can't just close the driving range.
Tech: Oh don't get worked up about it. They pay you well to keep me from taking a golf ball to the face.
Ramie: I mean, my skin might look and feel like stone, but I'm not some rock or statue. I have feelings.
Tech: Well... the ranges volume goes up whenever you are here.
Ramie: You aren't helping.
Tech: Sorry.

This nice slice of life piece was drawn by the skilled  Olisnowpaw