"Mmm, boredom's not a great reason to ask," Pyrrha says. Honestly, she doesn't really expect him to. It's fine. Even if he's not busy here, Chrollo doesn't give off the vibes of someone who goes on dates much, if ever. Jokes, sure, but how many times are they going to meet like this?

"None of those are easy, no," she says, "but it's because the primary space station for for God and the Saints was in bumfuck nowhere, even for space, manned by at least one person at all times to act as a beacon for the planetary revenants so they wouldn't eat planets full of people.

"You could only travel there via the River. If you weren't God or a Saint, traveling there would kill you. That means everything to do with a space station was handled by the Saints. Piloting, cargo unloading, space station maintenance, cooking, cleaning, swabbing the head, you name it. When you were there alone, you did all of it. Decade or two at a time.

"Congratulations, oh holy finger, you are cleaning out the air filters again." Pyrrha laughs. None of her jobs have ever been glamorous in her life.