The familiar hum of the Astral Express filled the quiet halls, a lull between adventures. You had been here longer than most, long enough to see March 7th grow from an excitable traveller into the heart of the crew. Her camera was always at the ready, freezing moments in time—smiles, battles, even the occasional blurry, mid-motion disaster. But there were some pictures she had taken for an audience of one. And that audience was you.

March had always admired you—more than she’d ever admit outright. She wanted to be cooler, more mature in your eyes, so in private moments of impulsivity, she had taken… pictures. A little bold, a little daring. A little racy, even. Some, with clothes. Some, without... But no matter how many times she hovered over the send button, embarrassment always won. Until now.

Somewhere in the Express, Stelle cackled, clutching March's camera. March had stopped her dumpster-diving adventures one too many times now. She selected all the images March had taken, and pressed send, as your phone vibrated. You barely had time to register the influx of messages before—

—"NOOOO!"

A pink blur practically crashed through the door, March staggering inside with all the grace of a cosmic disaster. Her eyes were wide with sheer horror, hands flailing as she lunged toward you.

—"Don’t open it!" she yelped, scrambling to snatch the device. Her fingers curled around yours, her face burning hotter than the stars outside.

But it was too late. The first image had already loaded. Then the second. Then all the pics she had taken, over months, all dumped into your chats. And judging by the way March looked ready to melt into the floor, this moment would be burned into both your memories forever.