milliways_bar | (no subject)

He slows even further. To a stop, in fact.

"Either the world is insane, or I am..."

Quite possibly both, *Meg says, helpfully.* The world definitely. You I'm not sure about, but I'll be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

He looks slightly lost.

"Katrina, is this one of your... I thought you'd left that sort of thing behind in Sleepy Hollow."

*Blink blink blink. The WTF look has returned!*

First off - my name's not Katrina. Second, I've never been to Sleepy Hollow. I don't even know where Sleepy Hollow is.

*Andrew ambles over.*

Hey, Meg.

*He glances curiously at the new guy.*

"Katrina..."

It's not really aimed at her, though. More a general confused exclamation; more effective than a deity he refuses to believe in.

Hullo, Andrew. This poor person thinks I'm a person I'm not from a place I've never been, *Meg says, by way of explanation.*

"Beg pardon, miss."

He visibly collects himself, and holds out a hand.

"I am Constable Ichabod Crane. From New York."

*A small "oh" look crosses Andrew's face, and he shakes Ichabod's hand.*

Andrew Wells. From California. Welcome to Milliways, Constable Crane.

Meg Giry. From France, *Meg says politely, and dips a small automatic curtsey.*

Not, *she adds, for extra clarification,* Sleepy Hollow. Or anywhere near or around Sleepy Hollow.

"This bar would seem to have far too many names, and none of them that of the establishment I entered."

I'm afraid that happens around here, Mr. Crane.

You get used to it.

"I hope I won't have to. I hope I'll wake up in a moment."

You're not dreaming, Monsieur Crane, *Meg says, patiently, and pokes him to prove it.*

Ichabod squeaks.

*patiently* Meg, don't poke the Constable.

*Meg looks sulky.* Why not?

Because he's clearly having a difficult day. And he's new here.

"Difficult," he says, fervently, "doesn't even begin to describe it."

You'll get used to it, *Meg says airily.*

Really. Don't try to figure it out. It'll just give you a headache.

"Not today, I'm afraid."

He smiles, slightly, and departs.

*Meg blinks at Andrew.*

Well. That was bizarre. I wonder if he knows another one of my relatives?

*Andrew has begun to make that odd snorting sound that means he's suppressing a laugh.*

I'll explain later...

*Meg eyes him suspiciously.*

I did meet someone yesterday who we decided was probably a great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-niece-cousin-thing.