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It used to be that anything that was in Theb's hands for a sufficiently long amount of time got annihilated into its constituent components. Despite the best attempts of pen designers, she picked them apart into pieces small enough to lose, and then lost those pieces; the artworks she made out of aluminium cans were concerning, for their sharp edges; if there is a force in this cosmos that is able to stop her from biting her nails, it is not known to Theb.
It turns out that you can have way more fun with this if you're extremely rich, and have superpowers, and are accordingly able to pick apart a struggling sentient being.
She's in space, orbiting a red star with no planets, idly thinking of a lot of things but nothing in particular, while her hands work almost on autopilot prying apart panels and digging into soft parts. Mess floats around her but one of the reasons she does this out here is so that there's infinite room to push debris away or take the thing elsewhere. It's quiet and peaceful; she can't hear it scream.
