So naturally, Roxy shows up, gets naked, and teaches an entire crystalline sex cult the meaning of monogamous yearning. One solo show later, she's triggered a planetary transformation, introduced the concept of personal identity, and accidentally started an orgy revolutionagain.
But there's no time to bask in afterglow. Because the next species on her hit list? A hive mind that's never had a single private thought. And Roxy? She's bringing the noise, the funk, and enough chaotic lust to crack their perfect unity like a glowstick in zero-G.
Galactic diplomacy's never looked so deliciously unprofessional.
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