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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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Considering some of the things the two of them have heard so far, that's probably just about the best Ray can hope for in terms of exclamations, isn't it. He's good with that. Especially since he's distracted very early on by the prevalence of brief but noticeable PKE surges in seemingly random locations around the bar. They tend to be on the small side; they'd be completely unnoticeable in a high-PKE city like New York or New Orleans. Here, though, they stand out like fireworks.

And the strongest of the bunch are all clustered around the Starlight Room.

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Jhalak focuses one dark eye on the display and two on Ray's face, blinking questioningly.

If only it had the vocabulary to ask how the PKE meter worked. All those blinking lights! Clearly informative, if not to Jhalak! What do they mean? How does he know what they're trying to say? What about the noises the device makes? (Experimentally, short(arm) imitates one, giving it a very Jotoki musical lilt.)

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"What we're seeing is a sensor reading of paranormal energies throughout the bar," Ray explains. "I can tell you about it in more detail when we're done here. It has to do with detecting the ionization of paranormal and supernatural beings across the planar barrier between the etheric plane and this one. The valences generated by the process of spirit entities manifesting in this reality tend to get ignored by day-to-day senses, but the meter's capable of picking them up. That noise you're making is the meter's way of indicating that there's a sufficient concentration of spirit energy on the other side of that door to suggest a possible full manifestation sometime in the next several minutes- assuming there isn't one in progress already. Care to check it out?"

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"Sensor reading of paranormal energies throughout the bar." "Tell Jhalak about it in more detail when we're done here." "Ionization--" "--barrier--" "--etheric plane--" "--valences generated by the process--" "--sufficient concentration of spirit energy." "Care to check it out?" "Full manifestation." "Check it out." "Holy cats!" "Approve." "That's right." "Check it out."

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Ray opens the door on a discreet room with padded walls, good stereo speakers, and, as mentioned, a couch. It's an old couch, and not the least bit paranormally active. The spot in one corner of the room, though, that lights up the PKE meter? The one with the drop of about ten degrees Fahrenheit as they approach? It's another story. Ray frowns at the corner and starts running his free hand over the walls.

"Jhalak, does the air here taste funny to you?"

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"Does the air here taste funny?"

Experimentally, it lifts its main mass into the air slightly and lets its undermouth answer this important question.

"Funny." "Taste funny." "Air here taste funny." "That's right." "Funny." "Tastes funny."

Goodness, was that a proper verb conjugation?

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Ray frowns a little, his hand resting on one spot on the wall. "Like chewing on aluminum foil," he identifies after a bit. "And I think I might be smelling ozone, too. Which is usually a diagnostic sign of something extremely charged going off in a high planar transfer zone-"

Something as cold as the headwaters of a mountain stream in September taps Ray on the shoulder.

---

While it is not entirely uncommon for goopy stuff to have to be cleaned up from certain areas of Night Moves, generally said goopy stuff isn't pale green and of the approximate consistency of mucilage*. It's also generally not splattered all over somebody's head and shoulders**. Ray and Jhalak, however, are pretty much exceptions to the rule, a fact which the manager probably fails to appreciate, given his decidedly profane exclamation upon their beslimed arrival at his desk.

"Sir," says Ray, with as much dignity as a heavily slimed man without a trap or proton pack can muster, "you've got Methodists."


*Not unless someone's really upset the bartender, or one of the bartender's favorite girls- Gary is known for being willing to wreak vengeance on the dancers' behalf

**Gary again

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"I'll be damned," adds Jhalak chirpily.