The Galactic Brew and the Unexpected Visitor

Previously

…“Oi! Who’s the new chap?” Bartholomew’s voice was a gravelly baritone, laced with an unmistakable grumpiness. “And what’s with all the dusty crockery? This place needs a good de-greasing, if you ask me.” Barnaby stared, dumbfounded. A sentient, grumpy biscuit dispenser. His quiet, predictable life was officially over. Zorp, meanwhile, simply smiled, its iridescent cloak shimmering with what Barnaby suspected was suppressed laughter. The galactic patrol might be looking for Zorp, but Barnaby had a feeling the real chaos had just begun, and it smelled faintly of bergamot and slightly stale ginger snaps.