*The hexagonal center console is absolutely chock full of things to poke, though you get a glare if you reach for any of the levers. The metal grating across the floor seems very uncomfortable for any pugs, though there would be plenty of room for all of them. There's a leather chair with dog hair on it, but it's bright red and fairly long, and you don't know any bright red pugs. Maybe it's Ruby's, the dog from the reports. Still, it wouldn't hurt to take a sample.
The circular control room branches into five spokes, long corridors of the same dark wood and persian carpets that twist unnaturally into dark corners. The library is indeed down the hall, you realize as you push the heavy doors open. It's more like a cross between an eclectic museum and a library, though. Displays of fossils, taxidermied creatures, and rows upon rows of books meet your eyes. There's a bit of chewed paper, but the small "no chewing books" sign mounted on the skirting board (written in a language you don't recognize, but accompanied by a graphic) tells you perhaps it isn't pugs doing the chewing. After all, pugs can't read, can they?*
He hasn't followed you in, but as you head to the kitchens you can hear footsteps echoing quietly off the metal grating in the control room in the distance. You wonder for a moment if he still needs to pilot the ship. Doesn't make much sense, seeing as it's essentially parked for now.
No sign of pugs in the kitchen. There's a feeding bowl and water bowl, both labeled "Ruby". Fits with the reports, you shrug. Ruby herself is later found in the hallway heading towards the control room with squeaky toy in mouth and they're right, she's way to big for a pug, and not the right shapes either.
There's a door that opens into outside- at least, that's what it first looked like. But outside was London, and this is a rocky beach. You can't help but wonder if the ship has moved, you didn't think the strange man would do something that foolish, but this doesn't make much sense otherwise. Ducking back out to shake sand off your boots, you read the sign on the door: "Engine Room" fascinating.
Intercoms crackle on via the speakers at multiple of the doors.
"Agent Fred!" he begins through a grin you can practically hear through the rattly speakers, "Just checking in, how's your investigation going? I see you found the engine room."
It occurs to you perhaps he had a reason to stay in the control room. Are there cameras in this place?
