Victoria wasn’t going to make the same mistake as all the other women attending Comic-Can. She wasn’t going to dress up as a babe, a mighty warrior, Brunhilde-type or an impish schoolgirl by way of anime. Instead, she chose her costume deliberately to appeal to the mastermind behind “Robot Chicken” on Adult Swim. She wore a random collection of kitsch, retro toys and plastic props circa early “Star Wars” sewn onto a black cape lined in purple. She knew well the bitter disappointment of rabid fans commandeering all the tickets and so the night before the panel discussion, despite the rain, Victoria pitched a tent outside the Javits Center. The next morning, safely in her seat, Victoria should have been able to relax and enjoy the “teaser” featuring snippets from next year’s show. Instead her neck seized up and her knee started doing that funny slip out of its socket thing as she made her way towards the mic near the lip of the stage. With her head cocked to one side to offset the pain, Victoria made eye contact with HIM. She stumbled through a mindless question that she hadn’t rehearsed, painfully aware that her perfect costume was streaked with mud from last night’s downpour. None of that mattered. As she posed her question, Victoria licked one corner of her lips shinny with gloss, then the other. HE responded. Right there in front of an audience of six hundred, the two were flirting. Giggling. Afterwards, at the coffee bar, HE signaled her over. But Victoria, elated, fled the theater to find a signal and tweet about the MOST IMPORTANT experience of her life.