Azurea’s new spacesuit had a pocket for her magic satchel. Her previous suit used to smash the small bag against her hip. More than just physically uncomfortable, it made her unusually anxious. Suspended by a dainty enchanted chain around her hips, the bag’s material itself could risk damage from such rough treatment.

The satchel was stolen from her once. It was the only time it had been off her body in decades. By the time she ripped it out of a dead man’s hands, she had aged ten years. She went from thirty-five to forty-five in a week.

It wasn’t all bad, though. These days, she actually cultivated the white streaks that appeared out of the blue in her long red hair. There was a thick one by her forehead she especially liked.

It was Frank’s idea, the pocket. He had asked her permission before creating a new suit for her, but she wasn’t surprised when he showed her a design hologram as an early birthday present. Frank asked her if she wanted to modify the colors as well, and he actually seemed happy that she accepted the offer. She then lightly tapped her index finger against the hologram.

“Out of curiosity, why did you add this pocket?”

“Why not?” he responded, “I noticed that you seem to favor your left side more whenever you’re wearing a suit versus, you know, anything else. Being ambidextrous definitely has an effect on your abilities. Your left hand would have to bear the burden during battle, all because of something affecting your right hip. Besides, I knew you’d never ask me to make an adjustment. You knew I’d just make a new suit altogether.”

He wasn’t wrong, she had to give him that. Azurea didn’t ask Frank how he was able to gauge how big the pocket had to be to accommodate her satchel. Instead, they left the breakroom with a smile and wave shortly after.

As she floated out of her cabin, Azurea felt the difference that the pocket made. She drifted down the hall and up a tunnel that took her straight to the rec room. K was there, playing on a handheld.  At his most relaxed, K looked like a large shapeless oil stain.  Holding the handheld in a fierce grip, only his hands had any shape and definition. The arms supporting them rose out his shimmery goop in twin tendrils.

She nodded at K but did not break the silence. He was most likely not even looking at her – it was impossible to tell when he was in this state. Still, it’d be rude to just float on by.

“Are you going to go see it?”

Azurea turned around, surprised. She now knew that K was looking at her. One black tendril was perched on the back of the couch, the other curled around the handheld. Twisted around in his seat, K was now vaguely shaped like a question mark.

“Yes, I am,” she said, “Want to go with me? I don’t think Paul would mind if you joined us.”

“Nyah.”