merryeccentricities

The Infirmary shift following Doctor Dinosaur's arrival was remarkably quiet, all things considered; Joly spent most of it studying information on dinosaurs, for obvious reasons. After a not-so-long day spent being alternately delighted and irritated with scientists of later years, Joly opens the door of the Blue Room, as he still thinks of it, and is promptly greeted by two very loud cats who have never been fed or petted ever.

He ushers them back into the room, looking around for the other human inhabitant as he does. "Bossuet?"

Joly knocks on Feuilly's door at what seems like a reasonable hour for people to be up. He's carrying a small bag that looks almost embarrassingly professional, and another that only looks like it has dog treats, because it does.

Joly is having a lovely calm day in the Infirmary--running maintenance on a few machines, reading more about the intricacies of engineered retroviral medication from a time his great-grandchildren wouldn't have seen-- when a tall and rather lanky man runs into the room, holding...a goat? A small young goat. Yes. All right!

Joly can guess who he is, from the reports of friends, and Pierre Gringoire--he's even more sure of that when the man begins speaking French-- clearly recognizes him in the same way. "Maitre Joly? You're a friend to Maitre Combeferre, yes? There's been a slight incident." Despite the man's obvious hurry, there's a certain calm to his speech that, yes, does remind Joly a bit of Bossuet, as Prouvaire said.

It's helpful, considering the news. "Yes-- has something's happened to Combeferre? Is he badly hurt?" Joly's already on his feet, ready to gather whatever supplies might be needed.

"No-no, not hurt, at all. In fact some might say he's been given a gift.Only it is a bit surprising. I doubt you'll believe me, if I try to explain it, and I'd rather not leave him and Maitre Segundus alone for too long, given the situation. They're in my room, it's not far at all."

It's not far, indeed. And when the door opens, Joly sees why Gringoire was reluctant to spend time explaining the situation. Oh, Joly would have believed him--but there are any number of gadgets and small tools in evidence, and Combeferre, as he would expect, is already investigating them. Which would not be a problem, except that Combeferre--and what looks like Mister Segundus-- appear to be children, now.

Still, appearances are deceiving! Especially in Milliways! He steps in, a little cautious. "Combeferre? Is that really you?"

(Behind him, he hears Gringoire making polite but audibly urgent apologies for leaving on account of Djali's neccessary animal habits. It's almost certainly just as well; he wouldn't want a young goat in this room, at the moment.)

The oddness of the last day's work in the Infirmary, the strange family mystery that seems to be behind the fairly simple matter of the patient's condition, the arrival of another living soul from their own time, all of it, has Joly in a relatively quiet mood when he gets back to the Blue Room.

That lasts until he's charged at the door by two cats who loudly inform him that he has been gone forever, and what's more they have never been petted any at all, and it's a terrible offense. Already starting to laugh, Joly bends to pick up whichever loudly protesting cat will hold still for the indignity.

Joly's test flight of his little prototype flying craft went fairly well-- he's pretty sure he's found out at least one major flaw, and he's made the acquaintance of some extremely interesting people. But the machine is up in his lab now, out of the way of curious cats and incurious beetles. He'll work on it after he's thought everything through a bit more, and done a little more research.

Which is what he's doing now, curled on the couch with a cat sleeping on his legs and a cup of coffee on the end table, watching the videos his robot-self recorded, really watching them, for the first since Cubefall ended.

He didn't show Athelstan all of them, only some of his solo flights. But now he's watching the ones he had with Legle; there's audio too, mostly wind, but some conversation gets through. He is totally watching this for science and not just smiling like a sap.

It's the summer of 1830, and everyone's alive! Alive, and dealing with a revolution that came within inches of getting them a full republic, only to be stolen by a Royalist coalition at the last moment. Everyone is, to put it minimally, a bit upset, but they're also regrouping and making plans to try again. And hey, maybe in this universe they'll actually win next time!

All of the Amis are returning Milliways patrons, with their own unpredictably-appearing doors, and they all know that they all come here sometimes. If your characters know them in their usual post-barricade situation, contact the individual muns to decide how you want to handle that; if a pup's meeting them for the first time, hi, have some French revolutionaries with weird soul-animals! The Amis will remember what happens with their AU-selves after the week is over.

Within the group, relationships are largely the same, just earlier. Regarding other patrons, they've had time to get used to the fact that non-daemon having universes exist, but anyone without a daemon will obviously be from Not Their Universe, or else a Witch/ supernaturally powered in some way.

As regards HDM canon, the Amis are from an earlier,different country than the ones in Pullman's novels. As such, there are bound to be differences between the characters and the canon regarding theories and world-knowledge. Since these Amis aren't canon-punctured, it's probably best not to bring that up.

Cubefall was--

Cubefall had been--

Well.

Joly had been a robot. A very pleased robot. And it hadn't occurred to him before he decided to be a robot that it would be...

well. If he had words for what he hadn't expected that would be something at least. But all he has are questions; and the questions he has, about sensation and spirit and change and desire, are not the sort of questions he's used to considering. He doesn't even know how to start.

But he has friends who are used to such questions, or something like them. And that's why he's pushing open the ever-unlocked door to the red-painted room.

"Bahorel? Prouvaire?"

The theater set-up took longer than Joly had thought it might;though, of course, he's not drawing on a wealth of experience in the matter. He's happily tired by the time he stumbles back into the Blue Room, toolbox clonking against the doorframe. Meta makes an automatic attempt to bolt out while the door's open; Joly automatically blocks her way with one leg. Corralling a cat adds nothing to the stealth and grace of his entrance.

((Continued from here))
It's a short enough trip with the two of them to carry one man between them--or for Bahorel to carry one man, and for Joly to get brought up to speed. By the time Joly opens the door on the Blue Room, he's heard of an upsetting number of potentially infectious conversations, and is warned enough to be ready to meet ...well, someone who isn't Bossuet for a while, when he wakes up.

Joly is sprawled across the blue room's sofa and, as is generally the case lately, trying to understand one of the more essential points of post-1832 medical science-- this time,something about genetic mutations-- and taking notes on the current book to find other useful books later.

Which is why he notices, as he sometimes has before, someone's journal being cited. In a context which, he has become aware, means not at all the same thing as when he says the word. Something like personal notebooks, rather than shared public records. He frowns a little, makes a note to look it up-- as nosy as that seems-- and goes on reading.

And comes across the mention of another such journal, a few pages later.

He pauses, and bites his lip for a minute. And then, trying to sound very casual, calls out to Bossuet. "My handwriting is generally very hard to read, isn't it? Illegible, maybe?"

...Hopefully?