Roxie steps carefully out of one of the back rooms. Her arms up to the elbow are crusted in slowly-drying black gunk—the sleeves of her plantsuit have been carefully removed at the shoulder to keep any of the gunk from getting on it, and she's wearing a leather apron.

"Exactly I said. There's an evil supernatural king somewhere on the ship who can influence dreams, and as far as I can tell he wants to kill or enslave us all."