It was as eventful a night as ever. The ghosts of distant laughter, screaming, honking, and a cacophony of other less easily identified noises could be perceived from their faint vibrations emanating through the ships all-encompassing metal bulwark. It took some getting used to, but by now the young woman knew that if nothing was exploding and nobody had teleported in to warn her, she was just as well off laying over her fluffy, hot pink blankets staring up at the ceiling. It was funny, Roxy thought, how her best efforts to liven up her living quarters clashed with the cold, sterile feeling that the room embodied. It was perfectly square. As tall as it was wide and equally as long with the same bolted-together metal material covering every surface. She had added rugs, cute fluffy furniture, a queen sized bed, a vanity stocked with all her favourite brands and pallets, she had even tried painting the walls white to differentiate them from the steely grey floor and ceiling... No matter what Roxy tried, her room still had the same temporary industrial feeling as it did when she first saw it twelve months ago. With a dramatized sigh, Roxy blew her bleach blonde hair out of her face and rolled onto her stomach, planting her slender angular face into the cloudlike pillow below her.

"Nothing ever happens here..." She thought to herself.

It was an absurd thing to say, the ship she lived on hadn't been quiet for a single second in the year it had been in flight. There were twenty passengers after all, twelve of which with a particular habit of stirring the proverbial pot at every possible opportunity. There was always something happening, and for the first month or so Roxy remembered it being too much to handle. Every day was its own 24 hour panic attack, someone was always threatening to kill someone else or plotting some quadruple-cross or accidentally blowing a hole in the hull of the ship, or even through the colossal meteor that the ship was built into. By now Roxy knew better, though. She and her friends had incredible powers, and nothing had ever happened that couldn't be easily fixed. This was definitely an improvement over being doomed at every corner, though it did lead to a sense of unflinching boredom. Nothing could really go wrong, no matter how wrong everything was always going. It would invariably be rectified instantly by one of her friends unique abilities. Her own ability allowed her to summon objects from nothing. This was how she had been able to customize her room to such an extent. She had done the same for the other passengers. There had been plenty of time to kill after all, there still was. Two more years to be exact. Well, two years and about thirty minutes. Roxy wondered if she should be doing something to celebrate the anniversary of their interstellar voyage. It was worthy of a beverage at least slightly fancier than usual if nothing else. The petite woman dragged herself from the euphoric embrace of her bed and to her nimble feet. She had resolved to go find somebody to share a drink with.

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"Roxy."

It wasn't really a greeting. More of an acknowledgement that she had entered the room. Like a facial recognition program identifying the data before it. Roxy was beyond used to the way the strange man spoke by now though, she had practically grown up with him. Oddly enough, she hadn't even really noticed herself exiting her room and wandering into the lobby, that was just where her feet took her as her mind was preoccupied. This was fine with her though, he so rarely came around to her wing of the ship so it was nice to see him without having to walk so far.

"Hey Dirk, what's new?" Roxy replied warmly. Dirk was odd, but she enjoyed his unique company.

"It's been a lot of the same. Dave and I have begun another deathmatch, so don't be startled if he strikes while we're chatting." Dirks face was unflinching, as if carved from stone. He barely even moved his mouth while talking, it was honestly impressive.

"Hmm, well I'd hate to dull your reflexes by offering you a celebratory margarita."

"I'd ask if Dave put you up to this if trying to get me to drink with you wasn't so constant in our interactions."

"Oh come on Strider, it's our anniversary of being shanghaied by candy corn aliens!"

Dirk fell silent for a moment before rising to his feet and strutting aloofly to the booth beside Roxy. He always managed to look so fluid and nonchalant, which was a feat given that he had to be 6'4 at least with the body of an action star. Anyone else his size would surely trip over themselves moving the way he did. Roxy felt a smirk spreading over the right side of her porcelain face.

"Yes, finally! Drunk Strider returns!" She teased. Dirk tilted his head back, the sun glinting off of his triangular shades dramatically.

"I'm not getting drunk with you, Lalonde. Two drinks, it's a special occasion but I need to keep sharp."

Roxy had stopped listening in favour of humming a funky little tune as she half walked half danced behind the bar to retrieve a retro looking seafoam-green blender. She delighted in the slight twinge of exasperation that appeared over Dirks face as she prepared the drinks to the beat of her improvised jazz number. It was one of her many newfound hobbies trying to get him to react to things. His statuesque visage was just too satisfying to disturb.

"So you'll be keeping up with me this time, right?" Roxy asked with feigned innocence as she poured sweet vermouth into the blender and pushed the lid on with a playful *Pop!* Dirks left eyebrow raised the faintest little millimeter. He leaned forward again, opening his mouth to protest.

"Seriou-"

*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...*

The sound of the blender cut off Dirks protest, causing him to sink in his seat clearly distraught at her tomfoolery. Roxy smiled like she had just won the world record for greatest trick ever pulled. Seeing her smile, Dirk sat up and flashed a sparkling white grin of his own. He grabbed her hand and gently raised it from the "ON" button before clicking the one labelled "OFF".

"Not too long. I like them a little thicker." Dirk remarked, resigning to his fate while releasing Roxy's hand so she could pour the pitcher. Roxy stood staring down at her hand, feeling her face grow hot. Dirk was very openly gay and very clearly attractive. Flirting with her like this was his totally unfair way of getting back at her. Roxy grabbed the pitcher and retreated to the counter behind her to pour the drinks, robbing him of the victory of seeing her flushed expression. As she began pouring the first glass, she was interrupted by the loud clashing of metal that caused her to jump and spill her glass onto the dark wooden counter.

"Jeez!"

Roxy exclaimed as she spun around to see Dirk now had his back to her, holding a wide and low stance with his sword in a defensive position. A shallow cut had been made along his shoulder and was beginning to bleed. Before him stood Dave Strider, dressed in the bright red garb of a Knight of Time with his signature 1/2 sword at his side, held theatrically on the final position of a perfect practiced follow-through. Roxy rolled her eyes.

"Guys do we have to do this right this second?"

Dave gestured towards the gear symbol on his shirt.

"Yes."

As if that was their code for "Go!", the brothers disappeared into a whirling hurricane of clashing steel that sped off down the hall towards their wing of the ship. So much for a celebration. Roxy sighed deeply, stepping over the sticky green mess that had dripped from the counter onto the floor to fill the clean glass that had been intended for Dirk. She checked the digital clock in the corner of the large television that hung over the bar. It was two minutes to midnight.

"Fucking Striders..." Roxy mumbled before taking a long sip of her drink. She shuddered as the strong vermouth and vodka danced together on her tongue.

They really couldn't have waited two minutes? She considered going and finding somebody else to join her, but she knew it was of no use. Besides, this was kind of nice in its own way. Sitting here with a strong drink, the echoes of whirling blades clattering off into the distance as the lounge returned to its usual stillness. Roxy delicately sashayed over to the giant viewport that made up the west wall of the lounge, sitting at the long semicircular table before it. She gazed out over space. At least there was something that looked emptier and lonelier that she did. With a morbid snicker at her own self-roast, she slammed back the drink and readied herself to stand and pour another. Before these intentions were met, however, something caught her eye. What she had thought to be a distant nebula had begun swirling and stretching in a way that betrayed its location as much closer to the meteor. At the pace the ship was moving, nothing should have been able to stay close to it for more than a microsecond. This churning raspberry colored smoke was somehow hanging directly in front of the meteor, as if they were both stationary. It was definitely weird, but Roxy wasn't bothered. If it proved to be a problem somebody would come along and use some vague God power to make the problem un-happen. Even as the sweet smelling fog penetrated the glass as if it wasn't even there, Roxy thought nothing of it. Even as the raspberry miasma overpowered the air in the lounge, and the taste of sugary sin filled her mouth like drunken ramblings, she sat calmly and sipped her drink. It was just another mild inconvenience that would be forgotten by the same time tomorrow, she thought as her eyelids grew heavy and her head hit the table. She felt slightly curious just what the substance was and where it came from, but as she drifted off to sleep she surmised that she would simply never get to know.