As the meal wore on, and the drinks flowed freely, life aboard the Blue Ridge regained a semblance of normality. The large hangar bay maintained the quiet bustle of activity as the crews made sure the undamaged planes were ready to go, and Maxwell's crippled Raven was hammered, massaged, beaten, and welded back into what it should be; even then, Bob had a list of parts needed for the damaged plane that could only be purchased, as the supplies were not aboard the Ridge's rather ample collection of parts.<br/><br/>The clouds around the Zeppelin broke apart as the vessel continued traveling southwards, the gleaming lights of Denver visible in the distance as the sun set, peeking between mountain ridges before disappearing from view entirely, allowing the stars and moon to shine down upon the dark steppes as the Ridge's massive engines continued their reliable labouring, pushing the ship towards its destination for the night as the internal gasbags cooled, naturally dropping the zeppelin closer to the ground.<br/><br/>It was nearly ten at night when the Ridge docked with nary a bump at the Denver International airfield, the massive engines shutting off one by one as the ship's tethers were thrown down to the men on the tarmac, the heavy cables linked to massive steel rings sunken into the concrete to prevent any drifting. Anyone looking out at the city could see that many shops, resturants, and bars were still open, despite the late hour.