One squishy and eight robots walk into a cafe...

[http://users.livejournal.com/fire_child_/]

Megan looks around the room as they enter, her adoptive 'brothers' - in this case the full eight-member set of Alpha Squadron - not far away. It was late afternoon at home, since they didn't want her staying up too late or to be late for school when it started up again. But they had little idea what time it would be here.

But Time and Oil were spending the night, which made it a perfect opportunity for a little 'welcome to the family' evening out with their new little sister.

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It looks like late afternoon, and the cantina is appropriately full of patrons, but a grizzled old character who's sitting in a big circular corner booth waves them over when he catches sight of them.

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"Yup. What kinda crust 'n toppin's?"

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Another furry waitress, this one brown and catlike, pauses to set down a little pot of a spread that is neither butter or margarine, but which smells very good.

Wolvie picks up a knife and helps himself to a blob without bothering with a bun. "Mmmm."

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"Look around," says Logan. "A lotta folk here've got flyin' lizards sleepin' somewhere in their clothes 're fur. 'N that furry thing over there's a desert dog, not a person."

The dog in question looks like a Pharaoh hound the size of a Shetland pony.

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"Part'a raisin' a youngun." Logan nods and pauses to examine his sandwich, then looks at the pizza. "How is it?"

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Logan nods somberly. "There's still a few here in New Haven. Different races. Y'might wind up in class with one."