"She'd better fucking be," says Nimona, still in that sullen mutter -- but her fur smooths down, and, with the imperiousness of all cats across all universes, she headbutts Darcy's hand to get him into prime scritching spot behind the ears.

"And... yeah. We're not controlled, we're not trapped, there's clouds -- ugh, I never thought I'd miss clouds so bad. Still enough weirdos to make it worth sticking around, too."