[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xwcp4Dt5g-Y]A M O N G  F R I E N D S[/url][hr]If anyone was going to point out the obvious elephant in the room, it wasn't going to be her. But the radio had set her mental station to melancholy: what was the real chances that they'd all come back from this? Vangar was huge. It was the premiere world superpower. Rassvet painted it as an oppressive empire, but if you looked even for just a few minutes online, you would find that to be pretty exaggerated. She touched the bracelet on her wrist again.

Her government had chosen to fight. And they had been raised to front-line that fight. That was their purpose.

Cannon-fodder.

[i]Get over yourself,[/i] part of her said, and Zimmy twitched slightly. There was no point in worrying about that future now. They'd come on this trip to get away from it all, not bring it with them. She was among friends, and that was the important part. She banished the whispers to the corners of her mind. Maybe they'd grow cobwebs and get stuck in place. Anyway...

"Barghest Bar, Bakery and Bathing? Alliteration, my dudes." Zimmy leaned down, fishing around in the case for one of the rapidly dwindling Zephyr Heights Lite she'd brought. Her favorite tasting beer, but not really the strongest. Shooting the shit didn't require her plastered on the floor. She grimaced, remembering the few times she'd gotten that drunk, and her hand itched absentmindedly at the back of her shoulder.

Apparently, when Zimmy achieved blackout-status, friction slowly started to lose its hold on her, like an air-hockey puck. Galahad, of all people, had taken an uncharacteristic joy of recounting to her the story; how one particularly raucous night, Katarina (also drunk) had used Zimmy as a sled, sliding across their barrack floor with Zimmy face-down and out for the count. It hadn't hurt her at all--there was no friction to burn her, and they hadn't been moving [i]that[/i] fast--but she was still a bit miffed every time someone brought up the video taken that night. It had taken her a while to recover her rep after [i]that[/i]. 

The buzz behind her eyes surged suddenly, and Zimmy winced. It been a while since she'd used the Mist, and occasionally it built up like a stress-headache. She had to use it every so often, or she got snippy and irritated. She closed her eyes, tugging lightly on the magic around her. Her interactions with the Mist were like that: a sea of stars that blanketed every thing with a dimly-lit warmth. And when she tugged on certain parts of the glowing fabric...

Zimmy tossed the can into the air. It flew thirty feet up, like gravity had been switched off. Zimmy's lips twitched, and she smoothed out some of the cosmic folds she'd made around the can. The can switched directions, floating like a feather down into her hand. "C'mon, guys: picture this: a jungle gym for kids like me, a ball-pit for kids like Lee, a pool...a poolside bar..."

She tugged on the world again, this time snapping open the can before sending it back into the air. It tipped as it rose, and the amber liquid lazily leaked out of the hole down to her waiting lips. She chugged it like the pro she was. This was taking 'look ma, no hands' to the next level. Eventually, the can came down, now empty, and Zimmy tossed it onto the growing pile garbage beside the truck. "The bakery could be at the bar too, although I don't think pastries and pool water would go great together. Maybe gambling could rear its head in one of the buildings, too." 

Thankfully, the buzzing had disappeared. It was more annoying than problematic. "I'd hate to play games of chance against any of you though, at this point." She grinned mischievously. "You're all a bunch of damn cheaters."