gone_byebye | (no subject)

Welcome to New York, Ryan replies to River, silently amused.

"Of course. It wouldn't be your universe without a couple of spectres in it."

This werewolf's in a fairly good mood. His hair isn't purple.

"The Deep Ones actually have an embassy? That's fantastic! Richard, we should stop by and say hello, if we get the chance. I've never met a Deep One and wait did you say 'restless dead'? Do you mean the crunchy kind or the non-corporeal kind?"

She doesn't fancy getting a snoot full of the kind he came in smelling like not that long ago.

"Well, yes and no. There's two or three of them who stay at the Osborne Marine Mammal Research Center at the Brooklyn Aquarium, but for the most part they don't particularly enjoy staying on the surface long enough to have anything officially considered Y'ha-nthlei territory," Ray says. "Although about once a month their ambassador asks for a trip to the M&Ms store in Times Square. He's married to a human up Innsmouth way and they share a fondness for theobromine. As for the restless dead it's pretty much all the incorporeal kind now that we've persuaded Ivan von Stabbington's undead presidents to get back into their graves."

There's a faint takka-takka-takka from the direction of the Firehouse front door, and then a distinctly metallic "WHURF" sound. Ray grins. "That," he says, "would be my daughter's dog. He probably wants to say hi. Francis! Come!"

See the icon for what comes trotting around the corner.

That's not the sort of dog Ryan was expecting, but he remembers Ray mentioning his robotic family members once it appears.

He's still not keen on the idea of greeting it, but at least he's not getting any challenge signals. He thinks.

"Is he programmed with any canine?"

"Easy enough to find out," River answers, dropping down to one knee. C'mere boy! She's not getting body language at all off the thing more than what she'd expect from a cybernetic entity.

Do robot dogs like ear scritches?

She looks back to Ryan. No response. "He's fascinating. Not Earth technology, I see."

"Actually he is," Ray says. "He's more Earth technology than my daughter- he's just from a particularly unpleasant dystopian future that grew out of a misguided sociologist's response to surviving World War III. I got him from a friend who'd been one of the regime's secret policemen until they screwed him over, and I had him reprogrammed and altered a bit to make him more suitable for everyday life."

"WHURF," the dog responds, waggling its butt the way a live dog might attempt to wag a very short tail.

"He understands a few hundred words of English, but overall he's about as smart as your average German shepherd," Ray notes. "Ecto occasionally borrows a data feed of his optics and audio units so she can visit museums and movies and other places entities with a twenty-three-foot wheelbase can't go."

Ryan will gladly let River play with the dog.

"Is Ecto here now? Or is she out on a call?"

River peers at the little bot's sensor units and antenna array. "It's very sophisticated." It doesn't register as 'dog' with her though.

She stands up and brushes her hands off, coming to stand next to Ryan as she peers up at the façade of the firehouse. Again, she does a little spin, holding one hand over her eyes as she follows a helicopter overhead.

"She's here," Ray says. "Francis, signal Ecto, please."

"WHURF," Francis answers, and cocks his head. A moment later the garage door opens, and "Hi, Dad!" rings out.

Ecto's taken the step of upgrading her voice synthesizer to sound more like an adult now than her original five-year-old girl voice. It makes certain things easier- like rolling into the street and introducing herself to newcomers.

River's eyes go wide as she takes in the full sight of Ray's Cybertronian offspring. It -- she looks just like an automobile.

Her shoulder touches Ryan's as she speaks. "That must come in terribly handy in remote situations."

That being the K-9 remote sensors.

Ryan's watching the psuedo-car curiously as it rolls out, standing still for River. He's familiar with the image, not so much the voice behind it.

I always rather wanted one myself, he tells his mate privately, misunderstanding the comment.

"Hi, everybody!" Ecto adds. "Dad, who've you got this time?"

"Ecto, honey, these are Captain Richard Ryan and Dr. River Song, from Milliways," Ray says. "They're both werewolves, but not the Lupusville kind. Dr. Song, Captain Ryan, this is my daughter Ecto."

"It's a pleasure to meet both of you," Ecto says solemnly. "Dad, can I-"

"Go right ahead," Ray says, and there's a brief set of possibly familiar electronic noises as metal slides over metal and the car stands up.

Ecto would grin if she had the face for it, but despite the icon she's more like a movie Cybertronian in design. The best she can do is put the smile in her voice as she notes, "It's easier to shake hands this way."

River's eyes do not get any smaller. (She'll ask Ray about Lupusville.)

"The pleasure is all ours, Ecto. I mean, I've heard so much about you, but to see you -- you look smashing in white."

She reaches out a hand in greeting.

It is one thing to see a video of this on a phone.

It is another entirely to see it first hand. BIG.

"Agreed," Ryan says once he stops having to gape up. He'll shake hands (finger?) once River has. "Ray is always pleased to mention you."

He has to admit this is rather incredible. (He still wants one.)

"Thank you both," says Ecto cheerfully, shaking first the one hand and then the other. "I figured I'd better get changing out of the way. Dad tends to forget to warn people about that." She cocks her head curiously. "So what brings you guys here, anyway?"

"Just a visit to the firehouse. And possibly the aquarium? Oh and maybe the library, if there's time."

Did they have a set agenda? Hmm.

Ryan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I'm afraid we're playing tourist, once we get some initial testing out of the way."

He arches an eyebrow at the other two humans sized folk.

"Is that correct?"

"About the size of it," Ray agrees. "If there's anybody you want to meet, let me know now. Egon's on his way home from an antique book fair at the old Armory on Sixty-fifth, but the other guys are mostly out."

River cocks an eyebrow at Ryan, a smile blossoming at the mention of antique books.

"Let's get the necessaries out of the way first, and then we'll go adventuring. Possibly for dinner. If I know Captain Ryan, he'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by dinner time

It's an expression.

"Entirely possible," Ryan allows innocently before telling Ray, "I'll be sure to let the ones across the street alone."

He would like to see Winston, but he feels there's little point when the other man won't know him. It would just be...strange.

"If you're really dead set on horsemeat there are a few vendors on the island who can provide it," Ray says. "Otherwise we'll see what we can do. In the meantime, come on inside, and try not to look like you have jellybeans in your pockets."

"I was kidding! It's only an expression." She loops her arm through Ryan's, blushing a bit. "He knows I was kidding, doesn't he?"

"I think he's used to dining with those with odd food tastes," Ryan says thoughtfully, guiding River after Ray.

"I can tell you he wasn't kidding about the jelly beans." He's already keeping a sharp eye out for a certain ghost.

"In my line of work it just doesn't pay to assume anything," Ray says. "Between the Deep Ones, the ghosts, my dead grandfather, and the French ambassador to the Deep Ones, things can get a little odd when it comes menu time. And then there's Slimer, who eats anything that's not nailed down or made of chromium steel."

River's eyes widen a touch at the sincerity in Ray's scent. "But... if he's non-corporeal? Why would he want to ingest anything? And can he? And you never mentioned your dead grandfather, did you?"