Rust is like a paranoid overprotective guardian. A “mom friend”, of sorts. Always the designated driver of the group, keeps you from staying up too late, stops you from eating things that might be choking hazards without proper precaution, and so on and so forth. You’ll never meet a person more concerned with your health and safety – until, that is, you say the magic word “unsafe”. Suddenly the alter ego that their hypnotist implanted gets activated, and their entire demeanor changes on a dime. BMX biking? Bungee jumping? Inline assembly? Sounds like a great idea! Let’s go, man! Rules are for NERDS! Then the minute the unsafe block ends, they’re back to normal, fully cognizant of the adventure they just went on and thinking absolutely nothing of it. “Whitewater rafting with you guys was really fun, especially the part where Jason jumped into the water and I went after him! I’d best go get the first aid kit, though – that scrape he got when he did that looks like it might get infected. I know he said it didn’t hurt, but better safe than sorry!”
They kinda scare you when they’re like that, if you’re honest.