Rochester Inn

[Sprolf]

As if on Shakespearean cue, an aging, brown-haired man - wearing a somewhat dirty lab coat that looked like it had been worn out in the garage a little too much and cleaned a little too much after that - walked into the bar, a worn expression on his face and hands in the pockets of his equally worn khaki slacks. A bag was at his side, probably containing medical equipment and a few other odds and ends.

The bartender looked up at the man, recognizing him instantly. "Doctor Sp..."

The Doctor raised his hand, silencing the man. "No name now, please; sorry... just a drink."

The bartender shrugged, turning to grab a bottle. "All right, then, Doctor. Good to see you in any case. I'm guessing you want something strong now."

The Doctor nodded.

The bartender poured the drink, speaking idly. "We'd thought you'd left us for good, the way you went running off into the blue that way. I heard from Yanagi that you'd been spotted, but then you went off into deeper space." He placed the drink in the Doctor's hand. "What with all your stories about alien jumpgates in Liberty Space and Nomads, I thought you'd gone and done something really crazy and got yourself killed."

The Doctor laughed quietly. "I brought you something back, in that case." He set the drink on the counter and reached into his bag, digging around. The bartender, naturally curious, leaned over and looked at the Doctor. The physician smiled sheepishly while digging around, before suddenly smiling and whipping out a brown lump.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "A brown paper lump?"

The Doctor ripped some of the paper away, making a small crack. A faint purple light immediately radiated from it in an ethereal random pulse. "An artifact."

The bartender received it and tore the rest of the paper off to reveal a hemispherical crystaline fixture with the light source constantly shifting about inside, bright points of light fluttering about. In other words, an alien snowglobe. "Rosebud..." he swore. He looked up. "Is it dangerous?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Not that the or... other... experts can tell, at least. It's inert as far as anyone can tell. So that's where I went... I saw things you could never dream of while looking for a refuge... and I'm still alive to tell the tale. And I'm back, for however brief a time."

"You seem to be the luckiest fellow alive." the bartender marveled.

The Doctor nodded, and, with that, he left the bartender, taking his drink and sitting at a table, all the talk worn out of him. He didn't even take heed of anyone else in the bar, eyes staring blankly at the backside of Manhattan while his mind wandered back to the grey plane of squares and diamonds... he thought it looked like a rug he'd had in his office back in Leeds.

---