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So you might have noticed there's a big ol' robot parked out back of the bunker at the Cooper farm. It's large and green and looks very battered.

Approach it, and one of two things happens.

Either you came during the day, and Val Bell is sitting on its head with a good book and a bowl of apples, or you came during the evening or night and it is apparently deserted. 'Apparently' being the key word.

What'll it be?

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A small smile. "It's magic. The last mechanically-inclined person I spoke to wanted many more specifics, but in my land there simply aren't many. Some men can bend certain natural laws to their will due to training; most men haven't any innate supernatural abilities."

He's not sure whether that's a speech pattern or a very strange case of sexual dimorphism; the best way to find out is to ask.

"And women...?"

He's aware this could be an issue with the modern mindsets so prevalent at this farm.

"For some reason, they have none. Everyone has a theory as to why."

Watch Oliver carefully not espouse his own by changing the subject. "If you're amenable to a short walk, I can show you the sights." It's not too cold a winter night, fortunately.

"Sure."

Watch Neil let the dropped subject stay dropped.

"Over here are the fields. We planted bread wheat in that one - not the hard red that primarily comes from Kansas, it's much too specialized. Used for pie crusts, I believe.

"Over there was sweet corn. That one was sunflowers. None did particularly well, unfortunately." Oliver's frown seems to put this in the realm of personal failure. "My magic can only influence soil; in our caring for growing plants myself and the other farmers showed our inexperience." He shrugs and the frown disappears - there will, after all, be other years.

"The orchard seemed to be doing well. We had a fine crop of apples," he lists an appropriately impressive number of baskets, "oranges, and, ah, some sort of strange fruit I didn't touch. I couldn't find it in any book of this world. Presumably someone enjoys it."

"I've noticed the apples. Unless the ones in the kitchen are from somewhere else. I heard somewhere the landowner likes fruit."

"Yes - she's a shapeshifter who can become a dragon. It seems she flies fruit in from everywhere."

At some point, saying, 'I never thought I'd have to say that' or 'You get used to the weirdness' becomes redundant, so Oliver really doesn't have much to add.

It takes a special kind of person to ask:

"What kind of dragon?"

There's a glance sent Neil's way. "Human-sized and black."

"Good to know."

Seems Neil says that a lot around Oliver.

Oliver is full of many things that are good to know. (And talking about anything not common farm knowledge gets tricky when you're an introverted faithless ex-paladin who hates himself.)

"The fort of one Mr. Shay is over there. He can teleport objects and decided that this farm needed a boat." Oliver smiles - a touch briefly, for he doesn't like Shay much.

"Over there is the hospital, run by one Dr. House and his assistant Miss 95. I'll warn you now that the former is known to be rather abrupt.

"There's the well here, the kraken pond - a kraken being a giant squid, if you're unfamiliar with the term - here. He - ah, it? - enjoys meat. Two young men are its guardians. Likely you'll see them by the pond."

And here's where his lack of sociability hinders him, for he can recall neither Steve nor Gabe's name.

"Steve."

It's a little too quickly said, after a little too long a pause.

"Steve Bell. The kraken's... his."

A look to Neil, then a few more seconds of silence while Oliver touches the white flame tattoo on his forehead.

Quiet and grave: "What happened?"

It's all rather vague at this point. Maybe the young man simply no longer decided to live at the farm.

Tight: "He didn't tell me."

His twin did, but Neil is very much certain it's not his busine-- oh hell. With a soft exhalation too regular to be a sigh, he elaborates.

"Gabriel disappeared sometime after I got here. Val - Steve's sister - didn't say how she knows, but she's pretty sure Gabe ran into one of the trouble spots outside Kansas and didn't come out the other side."

Oliver takes a deep breath in. His "Good Lord," comes with a sigh.

"The poor young man," he murmurs.

"Yeah."

He's thinking of Steve, not Gabe, when he says it.

Death is easy on the departed. It's tough on those left behind.

Oliver meant Steve too, though admittedly I was vague enough for interpretation.

"They'll be in my prayers."

He hopes this doesn't sound as thin to Neil's ears as it does to Oliver's own.

All he does is nod gravely.

So that'd be a no, then.

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