I wear my sunglasses at night.

[new_wave_rocker]

Who: Nick and OPEN
Where: The miniature golf park.
When: January 7th, 2011, close to midnight
What: Arrival.
Rating: Nick has a dirty mouth by nature.
Status: Open

Comments

[nofairytalename]

There wasn't anything too out of the ordinary that Amelia Pond couldn't handle. Boyfriends made of plastic, check, potential temporal paradoxes trapped in a big box somewhere in town, check, running around with a mad man who didn't seem to know how to settle down and live a little bit in a steady, linear way, check. And that was only an every day sort of thing.

So seeing someone shimmer into existence in the closed miniature golf park, yeah, not that strange. Poor bloke, she thought, hiding her smile behind a mile long scarf.

She crossed the road and went to hang on the chainlink fence.

"You all right in there?"

[new_wave_rocker]

He spent a moment looking around in shock. Geeze, this was a pretty vivid hallucination. He couldn't recall any opera or hippy dippy pop music video that this was inspired from. Though this setting would make for a pretty froofy video, at that. And, shit, it was cold. He was from Brooklyn, but it was even cold for him. The black leather jacket wasn't doing shit.

He startled at the voice, still reticent on standing. He let himself breathe again, his warm breath creating a fog around him. This just made him want a cigarette.

He stared at her a while before replying. "Where the fuck am I?"

[nofairytalename]

"Canada. Look, I'm sure you're confused and scared or whatever, but it's the middle of winter. You really can't be playing in there. Come on. I'll meet you around the front."

Amy pointed toward the exit and grinned. "I'll explain more then, yeah?"

[new_wave_rocker]

He looked to a gate that he hadn't noticed before. Possibly it was because of the lighted windmill, blinking Eiffel tower, and flashing loop-d-loop roller coaster miniatures all around him. He pocketed the golf ball for no reason than because it was there and slowly, carefully, he rose making sure his heel didn't make contact with another ball. (There's something he'd thought before in a different situation.)

He picked his sunglasses back up from the turf where they'd leaped off his head in suicidal insanity and placed them back on his head, pushing his hair back with them. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket to keep them from the biting cold and keeping an eye on the redhead through all of his activities.

The gate was locked so he had to scale it in order to get out. He landed heavily on the ground with the decision to simply accept whatever this delusion had to tell him. But he had to know as he approached her...

"Canada?" he asked the tall woman, incredulously.