[b]Crew Quarters 6[/b]
[i]Current Occupant: Fiddlesticks[/i] ([@TwelveOf8])

 The first thing that strikes most people about Crew Quarters 6 is the door. Not because it's particularly remarkable in terms of looks, but rather that the thing has a dangerous tendency to slide shut with very little notice. As is often the case with doors on spaceships in popular SpaceTV shows, it slides open and closed with a satisfying "shfft!" noise, which is a plus. Previous occupants of the room have painted the door many different colours over the years; the door is currently a dull grey, but scratching left by the repeated opening and closing leaves deep, multi-coloured grooves in the paint.

 The door begrudgingly gives way to a small, square room. A little porthole on the opposite wall gives a view of what's going on outside (which is, usually, space), and directly underneath the porthole is the bed. The bed is fairly usual; mattress, metal frame, ominously dark patch underneath the bed useful for storing shoes and childhood fears, a single large pillow at one end and a pile of blankets bundled up at the other. If it wasn't for the pretty floral pattern on the pillowcase and the mish-mash of designs on the blanket, it'd be the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a military installation. The walls are bare metal, flecked with the remains of pressure-sensitive adhesive putty where the prior occupant had attempted to spruce up the room with the use of colourful posters.

 Then there's the boxes. Whoever lived here beforehand must have [i]really[/i] loved boxes. Boxes serve as a desk. Boxes serve as a chair. The room would be considerably less narrow if it weren't for the boxes stacked upon boxes pressed against the wall. Most of them are made of blue high-strength plastic, designed to withstand high temperatures, heavy loads and psychic assault. There are some made of other materials, wood, metal, cardboard, which would surely be of interest to any wannabe connoisseur of boxes. Over the years, most of these boxes have been surreptitiously searched by somebody or other on board, and they've mostly been stripped of valuables. Still, a good rummage could net somebody a hidden gem, or a pair of mismatched socks.

 Somebody had gone to the trouble of trying to make the whole room a little more homely by adding a delicate lace and fabric lampshade to the otherwise exposed bulb that hung from the ceiling. It did a reasonable job of illuminating the room. This isn't particularly a commentary on the strength of the bulb. The designers of this bulb had heard the saying "[i]the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long[/i]" and taken it to heart, designing a bulb that emits barely enough light to qualify as a lightbulb, but would last almost indefinetly. A great boon for those travelling long distances, who might not have the opportunity to purchase a replacement bulb. Not so useful if you want to read a book during those long journeys, however.

 A [url=http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/6ba00d7a-ca6c-4dc3-b0d9-82d04193fc12.jpg]small, four-legged robot[/url], controlled by the Quest for Flavour's AI, was trying its best to remove the fine layer of dust that had settled on everything in the room. It was aided in this task by a pair of old, woollen socks pulled over the front legs of the robot, which did a passable job of picking up dust from the floor as it ran about.