It's Christmas in Milliways! As snow is falling quietly outside the window, inside it's cozy, all soft jazz and crackling fire, green garlands twisting around the wooden beams, jars of complimentary mini marshmallows on the counters. There's a faint smell of freshly baked gingerbread in the air and on every door in sight there's a unique wreath, each with its own color combination and concept.
One of those, a fairly traditional bells-and-ribbons piece if it wasn't for the fluorescent algae the wreath itself is made of, falls to the floor as the door it's hanging on is kicked in. For a moment the only thing visible in the dark doorway is the short blond hair and the pale, bloodied face of a teenage girl, growing more confused and suspicious by the second. It takes her a moment to step in, back against the wall, knuckles white around the handles of her kukri knives.