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Ray would've preferred to make this drive with Ecto, but the guys needed her too much back in New York. He's therefore rented a car on the State Department's budget for the sake of getting to Port St. Helena, Oregon, without having to deal with some of the nimrods at the airlines and Amtrak. Said nimrods have an issue with the contents of the passenger seat.

"Okay, Jhalak," Ray says to said contents. "Welcome to Boise, Idaho. We're gonna stop here for the night, if you don't mind. I know it's been tough being stuck in the car and all." Mind you, he's made a point of buying several reference books at any bookstore in each of the towns where they've stopped, along with a big honking quantity of fresh fruit. But still.

Comments

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"Very good," Ray says. "Seven it is. You can push the button if you want, but otherwise I'll push it myself.:"

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Jhalak extends a hand and carefully pokes at the button in question. It takes two tries to muster enough force to get it lit up, but the Jotok takes the light as a sign of success and wiggles its digits in delight.

"Seven!"

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"Bingo!" Ray says as the elevator starts to rise. "Very good, Jhalak. Now hang on. This shouldn't take long."

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"Bingo!" "That's right!" "Approve admire applaud!" "Very good, Jhalak!" "Very good!"

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It's the enthusiasm that gets him, really. About everything. Ray scritches Jhalak's central mass and points out the strip of numbers as they light up.

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"Two." "Two." "Three." "Three." "Four." "Four." "Five--" (an arm spreads its digits indicatively in the air) "--six--" "--six, six." "Seven!" "Seven!" "That's right!"

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"Very good," Ray says, and steps out of the elevator. "Okay. Rooms 701-710, left. Rooms 711-720, right. So we go right."

Fortunately, the only person in the hall to see him keep up the stream of constant chatter doesn't see him for long enough to do more than blink at the weirdo, and doesn't notice his shoulder passenger. Or if they do, they don't say anything about it.

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"Room 720." "We go right." "That's right." "Right!"

Freckled(arm) made a funny, it did!

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As soon as they reach the room, Ray tosses his suitcase on the bed and indicates the armchair. "Does that look like a good place for you to sleep tonight?" he says. "I'm just going to ask them to bring us some food. If the lady at the front desk recognized me, we're probably going to have people staring at us in the restaurant, and I don't think we want to spend all supper answering questions."

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Jhalak leaps confidently to the armchair from Ray's shoulder, turns around completely several times, and settles down to sit on its undermouth with its wrists arranged around it for balance.

"Good place to sleep," it confirms. "That's right. Approve!"

"Food?" adds the ever-hopeful short(arm). "Kiwifruits strawberries grapes?"

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"Or whatever other fruit they have on hand," Ray confirms, reaching for the phone. "Hello, room service?"

It's a pretty good hotel. When Ray hangs up the phone he says, "They're bringing us a whole fruit platter. Hope you like melons."

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"Melons," it says contemplatively. "Fruit platter! Approve."

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"I kind of thought you might."

There is going to be so much staring when the delivery guy arrives.

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Jhalak wiggles its digits agreeably and trills a melodic giggle.

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The bellhop wiggles his fingers back, eyes wide. Ray, in a rare moment of realizing what's going on inside another human's head, doubles his tip. It doesn't stop the bellhop from bolting, but enh, Ray tried. He looks ruefully at Jhalak. "Some people are going to be like that," he says. "I'm sorry."

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"Some people are going to be like that," it echoes, mimicking his rueful tones.

A moment later, however, it has darted forward and absconded with the fruit tray back to the floor in front of its armchair, whereon it starts feeding bits of melon to its undermouth.



Someone's gonna have to tell the kid about carpet and food and how the two don't mix.

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"Hey, could you do that on the table, please?" Ray says. "The fruit juice gets all over the floor, and then it gets messy."

He'll come over and adjust the relative positions of Jotok and fruit and tray by hand, if necessary.

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Jhalak considers the positions of itself, the fruit, the tray, and the table.

Some very inventive legwork (armwork?) later, it is perched obediently and docilely on the flat surface, still getting fruit juice everywhere but at least now for a definition of 'everywhere' that's easily cleaned.

"On the table," it declares. "Fruit juice gets all over and then it gets messy."

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"Thank you," says Ray. "We'll wipe up when you're done." He himself got a burger; they're usually pretty reliable, and anyway it's an excuse for the local potato industry to go all-out on the French fries. This is Idaho, after all.

There'll be a knock at the door sometime when both of them are close to finished eating.

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"Melon," says Jhalak, tucking the last morsel under its mouth. "Approve applaud admire. That's right."

At the knock, three eyes swivel to focus on the door, with interest.

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Ray holds up a hand in an 'I'll get that' gesture and heads for the door. "Who's there?" he calls.

"Dr. Stantz?" says an unfamiliar noise from the other side of the door. "My name's Pete Stoppard. I'm from Night Moves. Can I come in?"

Ray glances over at Jhalak questioningly.

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"Who's there?" it inquires. "Come in. Okay. That's right."

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The man who enters the room when Ray opens the door is a little shorter than Ray, and a good twenty or thirty visible years older- somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. He's thin, balding, and has a mustache, and he's dressed a little more slickly than one might expect for this time of day. "Hey there, Dr. Stantz," he says, holding out a hand for the shaking. "Listen, I'm real sorry to disturb you, but the young lady at the front desk called me and said you were in town, so I thought-"

He stops before Ray can interrupt him; he's staring at Jhalak.

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"Hey there," echoes Jhalak, waving one five-thumbed hand in cheery welcome. Four of its eyes are focused on the man, now; the fifth is still looking at Ray.

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Ray's a little tense, because a) stranger in the room and b) possible bad response. It is, however, likely that he shouldn't have worried. "Well, I'll be damned," says Stoppard slowly, scratching his head. "What's your name, little feller?"

"... that's new," Ray says to nobody in particular.