(Untitled)

[gone_byebye]

Ray walks in sans proton pack, but with a metallic dog about the size of a Rhodesian Ridgeback takka-takka-takkaing at his heels. It's not the most realistic-looking dog, but eh, it seems to do the trick. "Bar?" Ray says. "Can I get some form of a reasonably edible sandwich and a bottle of that Prometheus Springs stuff, please? Not the lychee

Comments

[_romana_]

Someone else follows him too, on quieter feet.

"Only reasonably edible, my dear?" The someone asks, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

[gone_byebye]

"I try not to get overly fussy if I can avoid it," says Ray with a smile. "Hi, Romana."

[_romana_]

The robot dog is given an absent-minded scritch as she makes herself comfortable, pulling the nearest chair closer and perching on it.
"So, what has the adventure been today? Revolutionists in the cellars? A vengeful ex-dishwasher at the city's best restaurant?" She asks, curiously.

[gone_byebye]

"I only wish it were that simple. They're experiencing completely inexplicable instrumentation errors and bizarre variations in temperature in the immediate vicinity of the busiest takeoff strip at La Guardia Airport," Ray says. "They've already gone through all the climatologists and standard engineers they can find and they haven't been able to pin down a cause or settle on suitable shielding. We've been asked to investigate the possibility of potentially hazardous paranormal phenomena being at fault, whether it's ghosts or simply a localized pocket of weird."