[When Elena wakes, she knocks the communicator to the floor by accident. She ignores it for the moment as she sits up and slowly gets to her feet. For the most part, she feels fine. But she doesn't recognize her surroundings at all, which makes this—as far as illusions are concerned—pretty hard to accept as reality.]

Alright, I'll admit it: you're getting creative. [She pauses, bending down to scoop up the communicator. She frowns into the camera.] Or ripping off some crappy sci-fi movie you saw a couple decades ago. Either way, you need to get the hell out of my head, Damon.

[Guess who is not going to be caught down on that grimy little moon? That's right, this girl. It's too much of a pain in the ass trying to figure out how to feed down there around the masks and their little war games don't particularly interest her. Not that there's a whole lot to do up here on the ships. Honestly, she doesn't understand how the hell anybody could possibly get paid for any of this. As far as reality shows go, this one is boring. There's no drama, no excitement of danger. Hell, she'd have at least expected space pirates or something to spice up the monotony of floating around a moon for apparently a month.]

[Alas, here she is at one of the bars on the Iskaulit, drinking what she is fairly certain is cheap beer and trying to will the fleet to just move onto something more exciting. Since that's not happening, it looks like she's going to have to make her own fun. She's been playing at being a good girl for long enough. It's time to test herself. See what she can get away with.]

[So, Elena takes her beer and heads on over to the first person she sees that's at least passably cute and alone.]

Hey, is this seat taken?