Leela had a what, in where? Ewwww! Sariel's expression probably says at least some of that when she spots the... uh, stowaway Leela's back pocket contained, though for the record her look is far more the 'oh my lord that's disturbing!' than the 'eww, screaming now!' variety. Looking elsewhere, now.
Uh. Looking at Fry. "... Pleased to meet you," is what she says, a little tentatively. For the record, it's not Fry making her that way. One hand's got a blue raspberry teabag in it, but the other's offered for shaking. She isn't asking about familial connections to the crazy professor just yet.
Fry is sort of used to catching people off-balance. It's a state he lives in himself at least 95% of the time. Wiping the dirt off his hand, he reaches over and shakes hers.
"Listen, Fry. Apparently I have debt coming out of my ears, in addition to the remains of King John III. So are you going to order something, or what?"
Pick a day she hasn't been asked to bartend, then been in the path of the terminus of a temporospatial explosion, and *then* tell the story. Odds are she'll listen.
Sariel tries to take things in stride, honestly she does. She isn't bad at it, either. But Egyptian tomb fragments in a person's trouser pocket? That's going to merit a reaction.
"Are you... going to return that?" That's so like her it isn't even funny. Much, anyway. Beat. "King John III? In an Egyptian tomb?" Wait just a second.
Once a Starfleet officer, always a Starfleet officer. In several ways.
Leela doesn't confirm or contest the rumors that King John III somehow shacked up with an ancient Egyptian. She knows next to nothing about Earth's history.
She digs through the refrigerator (see? Not leaving all the grunt work to Sariel! Erm.) and pulls out a frosty can of Slurm.
Huh. Well, hopefully Leela *is* going to return the... uh... stowaway, anyway. To say nothing of the piece of tomb still in Fry's shoe. Eww. As for King John III in Ancient Egypt--um. An alternate universe to her own?
She has no idea either. Other than knowing that an English king ending up in the time of the pharoahs is a little sketchy in her own timeline, unless Temporal Investigations gets involved. Ahem.
Ooh. Drink she's never seen before. Discrete peer at the Slurm.
It's probably for the best that Sariel doesn't press Leela about what's going to happen to that misplaced femur. If asked, she'll be honest -- Bender will very likely find a way to turn a profit hawking it on the black market.
"Did we just get thrown out of space and time, or has Bender been spiking my beer with motor oil again?"
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"We just got thrown through space and time, and Bender has been spiking your beer with motor oil again," she supplies helpfully.
"I think I landed on something."
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He's still shaking the remnants of an ancient Greek column out of his hair as he finally takes in their surroundings.
"Huh. Figures we'd end up here."
It's been so long he was starting to think he'd dreamed the place.
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Almost as if someone planned it that way!
She glances behind her.
"Oops, I did land on something."
Or, rather, someone.
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She looks undamaged, at least?
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"Aww man, I think I still have part of that Egyptian tomb in my shoe."
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Leela pulls a face, and yanks a femur out of her ... back pocket.
"Sariel, this is Fry. He's the crazy professor's uncle."
Time is something they mess with often.
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Leela had a what, in where? Ewwww! Sariel's expression probably says at least some of that when she spots the... uh, stowaway Leela's back pocket contained, though for the record her look is far more the 'oh my lord that's disturbing!' than the 'eww, screaming now!' variety. Looking elsewhere, now.
Uh. Looking at Fry. "... Pleased to meet you," is what she says, a little tentatively. For the record, it's not Fry making her that way. One hand's got a blue raspberry teabag in it, but the other's offered for shaking. She isn't asking about familial connections to the crazy professor just yet.
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Fry is sort of used to catching people off-balance. It's a state he lives in himself at least 95% of the time. Wiping the dirt off his hand, he reaches over and shakes hers.
"Hi. Nice to meet ya."
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"What?"
Because she's the normal one at Planet Express.
"Listen, Fry. Apparently I have debt coming out of my ears, in addition to the remains of King John III. So are you going to order something, or what?"
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Sariel tries to take things in stride, honestly she does. She isn't bad at it, either. But Egyptian tomb fragments in a person's trouser pocket? That's going to merit a reaction.
"Are you... going to return that?" That's so like her it isn't even funny. Much, anyway. Beat. "King John III? In an Egyptian tomb?" Wait just a second.
Once a Starfleet officer, always a Starfleet officer. In several ways.
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After another awkward moment, he manages to get himself properly situated on a barstool.
"Uh... sure. Can I have a Slurm?"
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She digs through the refrigerator (see? Not leaving all the grunt work to Sariel! Erm.) and pulls out a frosty can of Slurm.
"I can't believe you still drink that."
Except she can.
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She has no idea either. Other than knowing that an English king ending up in the time of the pharoahs is a little sketchy in her own timeline, unless Temporal Investigations gets involved. Ahem.
Ooh. Drink she's never seen before. Discrete peer at the Slurm.
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"So... where are you from?"
Small talk. It transcends universes.
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