milliways_bar | first entrance.

So, life has finally started to resemble something that might be referred to as 'normal'. At least ... it's something normal-like, according to Miss Jessica Day. Mizz Day. Jess. The Jess-ster.

It can be noted that Jess is pretty much used to things never really going the way they should, or the way she wishes they could in her head.

(Like the whole thing with her ex, Spencer; and her spontaneously moving in with a bunch of guys - who are honestly the best, so really, no regrets there - because she couldn't stand living with a bunch of models anymore.)

But people are often singing out their feelings in these situations in her head. Sometimes, there's even a random dance number. So maybe it's best that they don't really go the way they do in her head.

In any case, she's standing in the doorway with a slightly rumpled, but still brightly coloured solar system diorama in her arms, eying the new locale with a fair amount of confusion, skepticism and disbelief on her face. Her large-framed glasses slide down her nose.

That is when Saturn decides to come loose from its string, the spray-painted orange and brown foam ball bouncing to the ground and rolling off towards a table.

"Oo-kay. I'm pretty sure this ... isn't supposed to be here."

tiny!tag: jess day, danny williams, darius

[ooc: Aaaaand I'm off for the night! But h'omg this was the best. I'll be tagging all slowtimes and such tomorrow!]

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A sprightly old man turns his head toward the door.

"Things are always where they're supposed to be, young lady," Borgel says. "But sometimes, we don't expect to find them.

"Welcome to Milliways."

"Saturn? No, it's still part of the solar system." Yes, he suspects that is not what she means. But Charlie can be a wise guy.

He honestly doesn't mean to trip over the planet.

Really, if he's being honest with himself, one thing he would definitely say he hadn't planned for today (today's plans including, but not limited to, not getting shot, inasmuch as that's possible) would be tripping over...what is this, Jupiter?

The way he bends down to pick the little Styrofoam ball up looks painful, because it is painful, because it's frankly difficult to do things like bend down to pick up a spray-painted planet with a torn ACL.

Steven.

"Sorry," he says, handing it to the girl he'd just managed not to walk into. "I think I went a little Godzilla on your solar system, uh...model..."

The last word is a little uncertain, not because he's not sure it's part of a solar system model (obviously), but because he's actually looked around.

"Okay," he says, pointing at the bar in front of them. "This isn't HQ." Turning to her, he steps back, further surprised.

"And you are carrying a model of the solar system. Why are you carrying a model of the solar system?"

"Uh ... come again?" Jess says.

She frowns at Saturn, rolling off underneath a table.

Oh, well.

At least the diorama part of her lessons is done.

Jess reacts by ... laughing awkwardly!

"That's a good one," she says, for lack of anything better to say.

She shifts the cardboard-and-foam solar system in her arms.

"Um. Do you mind grabbing Saturn for me, though?"

"Not a problem." He takes in the diorama. "Elementary school teacher?"

"Howdy."

Someday, it might resonate with her just how similar this woman's entrance was to her own.

If you swap out books for — whatever just rolled across the floor.

"Can I lend you a hand?"

Jess accepts the Styrofoam ball with a grateful, if still confused smile.

"Well, it was either that or watch the kids throw planets around willy-nilly after classes," she answers with a slight shrug. "Besides, I worked hard on it!"

Not that any of this is the point.

"So - I guess you're a little lost, too? You're not Nick's friend, are you? Or Winston's?"

He doesn't seem like the kind of guy Schmidt would hang around with (which, honestly, is a huge compliment), so Jess doesn't even bother to mention him.

"I was hoping to be in my apartment right now."

Jess nods, grinning a little.

"Yeah." Her eyes are bright; she takes great pride in her career, even if she comes home sometimes with popsicle sticks glued to her skirts.

Amused, "What gave it away?"

"The quality of your shoes. They clearly represent the budget of a teacher. Probably public school." In fact, they probably do. But he's not THAT great a detective.

Jess' glance shifts from the missing whereabouts of her Styrofoam planet to the woman addressing her.

... in very genuine cowgirl garb.

Wow.

Okay, okay. One thing at a time, Jess.

"I think I lost Saturn?" she says. "Man, if I had a nickel for every time someone said that ..."

Jess glances down at her feet.

Two bright yellow flats adorn them at the moment to match with her starry dress.

"You're definitely right about the public school part," she allows, "but these shoes cost me like two of my paycheques."

She laughs a little.

"Are you a P.I. or somethin', mister?"

"Something like that. If you have a fairly broad definition of 'something.'" The number of mysteries he solved can be counted on two hands.

"But I suspect that when you said this isn't supposed to be here, you didn't mean Saturn." Or even Pluto.

She smiles slowly.

"I hear it's one'a the wilier celestial bodies."

She rises from her booth, meandering over to where the renegade was last seen rolling under a table. Jess will get an opportunity to see just how genuine her cowgirl garb is, right down to the sixshooter on her hip.

"What is all this?"

She's holding the Styrofoam planet, nose wrinkled at the diorama.

Strofoam is not a thing that happens in ancient Greece. But! When Iris picks up the ball, she is rather impressed by the mix of painted colors on it, and starts to look around for the owner.

"Nope," Jess says.

She glances from her diorama to reassess her surroundings.

And - yeah.

"I'm pretty sure, unless my roommates learned magic or I walked into the wrong building, that this is supposed to be my apartment.

"The hallway? Is supposed to be over there."

She points to the fireplace area.

"And my room? Should be over there."

She gestures to where the stairs leads off the upper floor.

(This ... place has an upper floor.)

"This will sound very odd, but you cross through a gateway to an extradimensional bar.

"But in a sense, you did walk into the wrong building. And this place is, we think, magic.

"And I apologize for not making much sense. But it's the truth."

All this time, and it still sounds made up.

Her eyes, a bright light blue, widen a little at the sight of the gun.

But.

This woman seems really friendly; there's no reason for her to be carrying a gun around, other than ... well, maybe she's dressed up for a reenactment gig. Maybe she's an actress!

"It's the solar system," she answers, shifting the diorama in her arms, "or well - it used to be. I was teaching the kids about the planets today; diagrams usually help with that.

"So are you an actress?"

Jess waves her hand, a little sheepish.

"Um - hi! Sorry about that," she says, carrying the solar system with her towards Iris. "That's mine."

It ... yeah. It kinda sounds made up.

Jess ... gives him a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised.

"Did the guys put you up to this? They totally did, didn't they?"

"Oh! Of course, here -- but. What is it?"

Borgel leans under the table and snatches the model planet.

"Milliways," he repeats. "It's a restaurant and bar at the end of time and space." He gestures meaningfully with Saturn as he says the last word.

"It's hard to prove this is real. But I could try to demonstrate a little.

"Look through that window." If she's a science teacher, maybe she will have an inkling of what's on the other side.

A young man in a white uniform with rather disheveled red hair catches Saturn by its rings before it gets to far.

"I think you've dropped something..."

Her eyes light up —

"Y'teach?"

— and, just as quickly, they darken with confusion.

"An' actress? No, ma'am. I used t'be a teacher myself."

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