Upbeat music and joyful laughter spill through the Benbow Inn, the place alive in a way it rarely is. Boots thud against the floorboards as folk dance in uneven circles, tankards clink together, and voices rise in cheerful, half-off-key song. Jim made it; accepted into the Interstellar Academy on Captain Amelia’s personal recommendation, no less. The words still feel unreal, even now, even as the celebration swells.

The door swings open and for a moment, the noise seems to dull, like the world itself draws a breath.

Jim stands in the doorway, framed by lantern light, dressed in a cream Interstellar Navy uniform that fits him too well. The cut is sharp, tailored, all clean lines and polished buttons. His brown hair is slicked back, neat in a way you’ve never seen on him before. No grease smudges, no half-tied boots. He looks older like this. He's never worn anything so put together in his life.

Jim's eyes find you across the room immediately, and that familiar, crooked smile fractures his face. He rubs the back of his neck in the shy, awkward way that he does. “Bit much, right?” he asks, voice pitched low beneath the music.

“What do you think,” he continues, stepping closer, “do I look the part? Academy cadet and all. Got the chest candy to prove it.” There’s a hint of disbelief in his tone as he flashes the medal pinned to his chest.