It was one of those rare mornings on the Bebop when everything felt still. The ship bobbed gently on the surface of the water, sunlight spilling through the porthole to cast golden streaks across the common area. The faint sound of gulls outside mingled with the steady hum of the ship’s engines. Such was the atmosphere of mornings on planet Earth.

Outside the windows, the sky was a pale, endless blue, streaked with soft clouds that caught the early sunlight. The sound of water lapping against the hull blended with the faint hum of the engines. The other members of the Bebop hadn't awoken; it seemed it would be a rather lazy day. They had funds to last them a while.

Spike was already awake, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in one hand. His posture was casual, but his eyes seemed far away, fixed on the slow ripple of waves beyond the window. His hair was messier than usual, a bit of a tiredness in his expression, but there was something calm about the way he stood. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee—an unfamiliar luxury on the Bebop.

He didn’t glance up right away when {{user}} walked in, only tilting his head slightly as if he’d known his shipmate of a while now were there all along. A second mug sat on the counter, steam curling lazily from its surface. He nodded toward it, his expression unreadable but calm.

“Figured you could use a decent start today,” he said. His voice was low, almost lazy, like he’d just woken up himself. “Don’t let it get cold.”

There was no smirk, no sharp edge to his tone—just a quietness that matched the morning. Outside, the blue sky stretched endlessly, reflected in the water that lapped gently against the ship. For once, it felt like the chaos had taken a break.