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...he's sitting in a corner reading a newspaper. Perhaps it's not the most exciting experience the world has ever known, but it's pretty damn lovely for a man who hasn't seen a new bit of print in some years. He's already read the "current events" for whatever world the previous occupant of the booth had been from and now he's on the funnies.

Damn. End of the universe and Dogbert's still a gas.

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"Rabbits? Goats? We starting a petting zoo, Quinn?"

Though his expression says he knows exactly what Quinn's doing and he's pleased as anything. Meat and cheese and some milk. Leather and fur and hell, good luck charms.

"They're small, they breed fast, and they're protein on the hoof. It was that or pigs, and you can't get wool from pigs." Quinn shrugs. "If we can keep 'em fed, we can keep us fed, better than we'd been managing anyways. Goats're easier to keep fed than sheep, even if you are the only Scotsman left in a hundred miles."

"And the protein'll keep folks in good spirits, I'll say. Along with the beer."

There's a lot to be said for good spirits.

"As for the sheep..."

There's an "I'll get you later" Look.

"Make all the faces you like. You'll be singing another tune once we get the rest of the supplies across. Have you met the rock yet?"

"You really think we've got the time for a pet rock with all the livestock? Besides... always thought the things were a bit boring."

"Not a pet rock," says Quinn patiently. "I mean the one who's walkin' around here. It's a damned talking boulder named Naraht. Comes up to here-" He indicates something of about thigh height. "He's volunteered to lend a hand, or whatever the hell it is a rock's got instead of hands."

Blink.

"Talking boulder?"

"Some sort of space alien, only it's a rock instead of a walking carpet that follows Han Solo around." Quinn shrugs. "Naraht's looking to help out. So're a couple of other people, mad as they are- but you really need to meet this one first."

He nods slowly.

"Gotcha. I'll make sure to make friends with him, if I should see him at the bar."

He clicks his tongue.

"Certainly."

Ordinarily Quinn would now take Creedy to task in 'I'm telling you, I'm not making this up' style- but frankly? Naraht is his own proof of verity. So Quinn just signals one of the rats for coffee.

"Anyway, that's the big stuff- that and a doctor who's lending a hand with what we need to buy to bring back to Helen."

He nods.

"Sounds good. She'll be glad to see supplies. I think we were running low last I talked to her."

"We were," Quinn says quietly. "She gave me a list. I think she'll be pleased with Dr. Tam's suggestions- and then some."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

And he's grinning at that, because he likes Helen. The two of them bicker like siblings in a grand, longstanding game they've long forgotten the score for.

"Did you want the honour of pulling the tarp off when we give her the bundle?" Quinn suggests. "That ought to get you about a week's worth of extra points with her, I figure."

He nods.

"We'll do it together. Wouldn't want to take all the glory from you."

"Eh, I'll be busy anyway," Quinn says. "Explaning to the kids why you shouldn't let the goat chew on your trousers, kind of thing."

He grins at Quinn.

"Thanks, mate."

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