““Do a lot of internet groups meet up at conventions?” “Sure.” “How about your Starfield peeps? The online ones you talk to?” “Oh—well, yeah. A few of them are here.” We break apart for a moment as an elf with a scythe squeezes between us. “Anyway, we should get to the costume contest area and sign in, what do you say? And try not to run into the twins.” “If we do I’ll shove them in a closet,” Sage mutters. I laugh. “Ready to kick some Nox butt?” She scoffs. “Elle, I’m ready to tell them to get down on both knees and call you Queen.” “I thought you were going somewhere completely different with that.” “Eh, this is a PG sort of moment.” “Fair enough.””