milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Scully had done some early morning observations. This place seemed rather well-equipped. She noticed the infirmary(very state of the art in fact, and made a mental note to talk to someone about that place), the greenhouse, and the stables out back. Of course, her mind was carefully instructing her on how there CANNOT be an outdoor area to a bar in space. She chose to move that aside for the time being since her observations were not matching up with the facts she knew.

So as it was, she was now in the bar, observing, and going over her own notes on the establishment.

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There's a warm breeze that carries with it the scent of fresh baked cookies, and then a man simply steps out of nowhere, not five feet in front of the agent.

Well, that's odd. Maybe this place had a bakery here as well?

She gave the man a critical eye, especially at that appearance. Perhaps a hand went to her gun very briefly, since where she came from, people coming out of the shadows either gave you hidden information, or wanted you dead.

Geoff jumps slightly when he sees the glance on him. Usually this side of the bar was relatively empty this time of day, which is why he chose to pop in here.

"Oops!" he laughs. "Didn't mean to startle you, miss. Wasn't expecting anyone to be here."

Scully relaxed a hair at that, but still studied him some.

"It's all right. Just conducting some observations. Only arrived here yesterday."

She asked, "I guess you've been here for a while, or are familiar with this establishment?"

"Oh, yes, I've been coming here for a while," he says, nodding frantically. "But you're new, you say? Well, then, let me welcome you! Would you like a biscuit? No, wait, that's an American accent... cookie?"

More critical eyeing, "Yes, thank you."

"I'm Special Agent Scully." Unlike Mulder, *she* did remember her badge.

"Would you mind me asking you some questions about this place then?"

"Wonderful! Let's see... how about just a sugar cookie? Something simple, but oh so good. Also my specialty. People think of sugar cookies as so... basic, you know? So, I made it a challenge to myself to work out a sugar cookie that was anything but. But, oh, listen to me, babbling on like you care."

Geoff's eyes go a little unfocused in concentration, and then he reaches out and plucks a warm sugar cookie out of thin air and hands it to her.

"So, a Special Agent, you said?" he asks as he sits across from her. "How exceptional of you! Certainly, you can ask me anything you like!"

That received yet more critical eyeing of the man and the cookie. She took it carefully, and studied. Excellent sleight of hand, though the fact it was warm, well, hmmm... though her mind did suggest possibilites for that. None of them pleasent.

Scully then readied her notepad, and asked, "First of all, may I have your name, and the exact circumstances of your initial arrival here?"

"Geoff, late the Roman God of Biscuits, although I also do cookies, scones, muffins, and flatbreads. Basically anything non-loaf shaped -- bread's not my department. As far as my arrival... well, I just happened to get a sense of someone wishing for a really good bikkie, and decided to come investigate. Please do try the cookie, Miss Scully. It's not quite as good after it cools."

Snow is passing through, grabbing some lunch for the kids and gives a polite nod to the new arrival.

"Good afternoon."

Scully remembered the woman was talking with Agent Mulder last night.

She nodded back, "Good afternoon, ma'am."

"How are you adjusting to Milliways? Is there anything you need help with?"

New arrivals do need something of an adjustment period. Most take quite a while to catch on to everything. Or just convince themselves they're not entirely mad.

Scully was going to need a wiiiiiide adjustment period.

"Fine so far. I'm trying to understand the exact nature of this place. Would you mind me asking you some questions?"

At least she didn't go catatonic. There's hope!

"It's not a problem. I've been here for nearly two years, so I've been here through more than a lot of the patrons. Ask away."

Not yet at least.

Scully straightened up at that, "Have you ever been able to leave, or have you been Bound here, all this time? And also, is there a machine, or structure here keeping the bar's molecular structure intact to allow for the surroundings outside?" Or possibly a machine to create the effect out the windows.

"I've been bound for the entire time that I've been here, but have been permitted to go to other worlds. Sometimes when escorted by another patron from a different world, but sometimes by using a pass provided by Bar. There isn't any machine or structure that I've observed, but magic doesn't tend to provide physical evidence like that. I do recall in the early days, there wasn't a lake or forest, just a stretch of concrete and largely blank horizon."

Scully remarked, "So the back area is a type of biosphere that was later built? And magic is simply science we do not understand just yet. I'm sure there's an explanation for it." Currently leaning toward quantum mechanics at the moment in that regard.

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There sits, next to her, a young man with a broom.

It's not just any broom, of course, but Her broom (for all that it's his Broom) with shoots growing from green buds and even a few new leaves.

He, for his part, is smoking a perguenay cigarette. For once smoking it as opposed to simply watching it burn. He seems to be enjoying it inbetween sips of tea.

But he's holding a growing broom, holding it as if it were his most precious possesion. Well, his second most precious.

The broom with the growing sprouts got some eyeing, and she was wondering what type of mechanism was creating the effect. The smoking was really getting eyed since simply on association, smoking equaled very bad or at least secret officials. People who work in shadows. Though usually they didn't have a growing broom with them as well.

Reconsidering the dream-state theory at the moment.

He turns as he feels eyes on him, putting the cigarette into an ashtray. His smoking had to do with a great many things, but he was certainly not a secret official of any type. Of the two of them, Trism had been the one involved in the grand government secrets, not him.

The tea is sipped again and the broom is gripped a little tighter.

"Yes?"

Scully apologized, "Sorry, was simply noticing the device you were carrying with you."

An expression of confusion and a slow blink.

"Device?"

He looks about for a device. He didn't think he had a device on him or around him, but he hadn't exactly checked for one.

"That broom-like one you're holding?" Scully patiently pointed out.

"Broom-like? It's a broom. Are you slow?"

He pulls up the broom and looks at it for himself, trying to find how it isn't a broom. It is a strange broom, a growing broom, a living broom, a broom that is perpetually cold to touch. It is a flying broom, a Witch's broom...

But it's still a broom.

Scully glared at him, and stated, "Most brooms I know, do not look as though there is something growing or emerging from the handle. Hence my curiosity about the exact nature of the device on or in it to allow that."