Ray walks into the Bar with a brushed-metal robot dog takka takka takka-ing at his heels. There's no visible slime, and he only smells a little bit of ozone, but that's what happens when you come to Milliways without changing out of your jumpsuit and proton pack first. "Bar? I realize it's still morning in New York, but I've been on my feet for
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The dog cocks its head (no visible ears, one glowing yellow panel across the place where eyes and forehead would be on a normal dog, a pitty area with something like nostrils at the muzzle, no mouth) and makes a "WHURF" noise.
"Francis is from a dystopian future about a hundred and twenty years down the road, but I don't think it's my world's future for various reasons. The person he was trying to run down gave him to me and I had him reprogrammed."
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"Well, I'm at a loss to ask an intelligent question about any of that last part."
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"Oh, um, translation: he used to chase people down for a dictator's government. Have you ever met John Preston?"
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"I finally met Garion when he was tending Bar the other night. From the look of him, anything eek-worthy that happened to him must be very eek-worthy indeed."
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The glass disappears as he says this.
"-and that's what happens if you try to pin down the taste too closely. It's somewhere else in the Bar, I know that much."
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