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Whenever the phone rang at 2 AM, you'd know right away who it was, and she was always there, laughing hysterically or sobbing quietly.
“Man, Di-Stri, 'm sorry about that, time zones are kooky shit!!” She'd giggle and you could hear her hiccup. “If yer too tuckered out, could always have some fun wit' that auto respoder-- responder of yours. Heheh.”
“Just don't drink yourself stupid again. Wait, what am I saying, you and stupid are inexorably bound together with the help of a single drop of alcohol.”
After that you would hang up and she'd leave a bunch of angry voice mails and subsequent apologetic voice mails. You found it to be a charming way to start your mornings.
“Fuck, I hate it here,” she'd say other times, and she'd lose that cheerful facade she always put on. “She's not here and nobody is here.”
“I could send you some company,” you'd suggest.
“I don't want some robot,” she'd whisper. “Jeeeeez. You know that by now.”
You'd sigh into your phone. “Can you wait until the game starts? You'll have plenty of company then.”
“I'm scared as fuck, Dirk.”
“I know.”
Roxy needed her own damn around the clock bodyguard when it came to Derse. Normally you'd just grab her and bring her back to her tower, but occasionally you'd follow her, see where she'd bring you. It would be dangerous if she strayed too far, but you were there in case that happened.
She was slippery though. After all, she was a void hero-- so you shouldn't really have been so nervous when you couldn't spot her, when you couldn't read her, but each and every time you became more nervous and shaky than you thought you could get.
“Quit trying to get away from me,” you scolded her once as you grabbed her arm. She just levitated around, listlessly following you like a life-sized balloon tenuously following you by a string. You didn't know why you bothered saying anything to her when she was sleeping, but you did it anyway.
When the two of you entered the game, you both spent down time relaxing wherever possible and talking about old-fashioned ideas like homosexual crushes. During one of these sessions you were both sitting, looking out into your world, and she laid her head on your lap. She looked up at you affectionately, and you quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
She snickered, and snatched your shades from your face and fixed them onto her face. You'd normally get mad, overcome with vulnerability, but she looked so silly with the glasses all lopsided, and she was having such a hard time having the glasses stay that you couldn't help but laugh.
She stuck out a tongue towards you, pushing your glasses up her forehead. “Make fun all you want.”
“You're too inebriated to even put on glasses; you truly are a beautiful mess.”
“Your eyes are so prettyyyy,” she said, bringing a hand up to your face and cupping your cheek. “Such a suave mofo you could be with them pretty ole things, but you go coverin' them up with shades. Pffth.”
You weren't used to such affectionate and intimate contact, and you expected to be more a bit more nervous about her grabbing your shades, but it was just the two of you. You found that you didn't care. “It seems there's a small chance that you doubt the awesomeness of my shades.”
She stuck her tongue out again, giggling as she snuggled closer to you. “You shoulda visited me before this game more. Not half bad copany, Dirky.”
“Yeah.” You brushed some hair out of her face. “Just don't go gallivanting off without me, got it?”
“Yessir,” she said, chuckling. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
You almost laughed at the irony of that statement. “You would, that's my problem.”
“Love youuuu, horse dick,” she slurred as she closed her eyes.
“Love you, Rox, you drunken witch.”