Jim sees the whole thing, and follows, curious about a man on what looked like a jetpack (something that never quite made it to practical use in his timeline). He watches as the man struggles.
When the man with the jetpack, finally, manages to land and make it inside he might notice a young woman in a wheelchair sitting by the door watching. "That was quite the impressive entrance."
"Oh yes. That is a pretty good description of Milliways. With heavy emphasis on 'some kind'. I'm given to understand that it's a multi-versal hub located at the temporal end of some, possibly all, universe or universes."
At some point after the man in the interesting clothes has entered the bar, there's another man in interesting clothes. Ray's just happen to resemble an exterminator's more than anything, and they've got kneepads on the elbows and logo patches in interesting places.
And, um, he's crawling with electronics. He's just come in from work, you see, and he didn't stop to take off the ecto goggles, or leave the PKE meter home, or take the lightsaber off his belt. The proton pack, yes, that thing's heavy- but heck, he's even carrying his holocomputer in one inside pocket and his PDA in another.
Oh, and his dog followed him in. The brushed-metal one the size of a Rhodesian ridgeback.
He's getting himself a bottle of Third Rail- leaving the bar for even this long to go to work was nerve-wracking, but he poked his head back into the Firehouse just to see and it didn't look like an alternate universe, so...
Stares. There's no other word for it but full out, yokel-type gaping. The man's practically wallpapered with machines and to top it all off, he's got a machine that he's thinking has to be one of those newfangled Japanese robot companions except.
The metal dog stops mid-stride and turns in Mitchell's direction.
"WHURF WHURF WHURF WHURF," it says, or at least that's what it says to the ears of most of the listeners. As far as Mitchell is concerned it's saying, HI! HI HI HI! CANIUS UNIT 0042 DESIGNATION 'FRANCIS'! HI HI!
The yellow light that takes up the space where a normal dog would have its eyes and forehead winks on and off rapidly.
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"Er, need some help?"
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"Know anywhere soft I can land?"
Right now, the only likely spot is looking to be the lake and he'd really rather not. Kremlin would have his nuts in a vice if he got the jetpack wet.
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At least, he hopes not. They haven't actually tried a snow landing yet.
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"I was a thousand feet above the rooftops. I wasn't really expecting a--"
He looks around.
"What is this? Some kind of bar?"
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"Try that in English as opposed to 'comic book'," he offers.
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And, um, he's crawling with electronics. He's just come in from work, you see, and he didn't stop to take off the ecto goggles, or leave the PKE meter home, or take the lightsaber off his belt. The proton pack, yes, that thing's heavy- but heck, he's even carrying his holocomputer in one inside pocket and his PDA in another.
Oh, and his dog followed him in. The brushed-metal one the size of a Rhodesian ridgeback.
He's getting himself a bottle of Third Rail- leaving the bar for even this long to go to work was nerve-wracking, but he poked his head back into the Firehouse just to see and it didn't look like an alternate universe, so...
Um. Yeah. Geek with beer and dog.
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Stares. There's no other word for it but full out, yokel-type gaping. The man's practically wallpapered with machines and to top it all off, he's got a machine that he's thinking has to be one of those newfangled Japanese robot companions except.
WHAT ARE YOU?
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The metal dog stops mid-stride and turns in Mitchell's direction.
"WHURF WHURF WHURF WHURF," it says, or at least that's what it says to the ears of most of the listeners. As far as Mitchell is concerned it's saying, HI! HI HI HI! CANIUS UNIT 0042 DESIGNATION 'FRANCIS'! HI HI!
The yellow light that takes up the space where a normal dog would have its eyes and forehead winks on and off rapidly.
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HELLO. WHAT'S A CANIUS UNIT 0042, FRANCIS? NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE TECH. ARE YOU JAPANESE?
To anyone else, it just sort of looks as if he's muttering.
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The Bunny shakes his head.
"That is so 2000's. Ya need ta get with the times."
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