milliways_bar | (no subject)

There's a woman nearby, in what can best be described as it's-too-hot-for-clothes-but-modesty-is-also-a-thing pyjamas, holding a fluffy white cat that doesn't seem to want to be held.

She also has a margarita. Because it's hot and she deserves it.

"No? It's looked like this for a while, I think?" She looks around. Nothing seems to have changed over the last few months.

Cecil would protest that he doesn't know everyone in Night Vale, this could definitely be a new intern (do they need a new intern?).

(He definitely knows everyone in Night Vale.)

So, an outsider.

(Interloper)

"Oh, are you one of the team of scientists? I'm afraid I haven't seen Carlos since he left the sound booth." Cecil offers helpfully, stomping ruthlessly on his inborn urge to point and shout, because that's just rude.

(And might get back to Carlos)

He sighs, giving his (tragically empty) empty mug a morose look.

"I wouldn't mind redecorations so much if they didn't keep moving the coffee machine."

"No. I'm a producer. In TV."

It's odd that he'd assume she was a scientist. Does she look like a scientist? She thinks she probably looks a bit tipsy right now, but this is a bar. That's allowed.

"I think the coffee machine's over there." She points toward the bar. There's definitely something behind it that could be a coffee machine.

Cecil beams, his coffee (and lack thereof) momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, I didn't know there were any television stations allowed in Night Vale, how wonderful! I suppose it was only a matter of time, but... oh, and forgive me, it was horribly neglectful of us not to mention your arrival on the show tonight. I have a new intern, what can you do?" Cecil is, if nothing else, committed to his life in the media. In his excitement, as he speaks, his voice slides more towards that of his radio persona (which, let's be honest, isn't that far removed from every-day Cecil Palmer) - a touch more smooth, a touch more caramel.

Oh.

Oh. Nichola should have figured. Sometimes she forgets that Milliways exists outside of her own world.

"This isn't Night Vale, sweetie. I'm pretty sure we're in space."

Which is pretty cool. And also kind of scary, given how many deadly plagues come from space. But nobody's brought anything back through the door yet, so it's probably okay here.

Cecil's smile freezes, then melts into something entirely more puzzled. Sure, everyone talks about the Blood Space War, but that's... oh, who knows, some point in the future. Some time not now which tends to take up everyone's attention. ,

"Space?" It's a bit of a squeak, before he hastily gathers his composure with an air of having to do this... quite often. So very often. It's an art, at this point, how quickly he puts himself back together and smiles, wryly.

"An inter-dimensional portal inside of the station? Oooooooh, Station Management isn't going to like that One Bit." His tone would sound decidedly ominous if there wasn't a thread of decidedly gleeful amusement sewn through there, gleaming like silver. Considering the grief Management puts him through sometimes, he can't bring himself to control it.

Nichola decides the cat she's holding can be re-caught. She lets Pete go and shifts in her seat, leaning over to possibly give a better view of the window.

"That's what I've been told."

Cecil reminds her of someone. He reminds her of a lot of people actually. Many of whom she works with.

"So, where's Night Vale?" No TV allowed, inter-dimensional portals popping in and out of existence, and interns that randomly vanish? She'd almost put money on it being in the desert somewhere.