Adventures Above and Below, London, March-November 1936
March 20th, 1936
He'd left the hotel again a few days ago to search the Underground for some sort of entrance to London Below. Having had no luck, he finally returned to the news that a letter had been left for him in his absence. Unfortunately, no amount of searching behind the desk in the hotel lobby where such things were usually kept could actually *procure* the alleged letter. The staff were very apologetic about the mixup. Less so about the fact that he was going to have to come up with some more funds if he expected to continue staying there. Which is why he ended up taking a job as a mechanic at a local garage, and okay, he might not admit it, but there was a part of him that was really kinda gleeful at getting a chance to work on "classic" cars.
April 13th, 1936
In this timeline, there was no letter from Xander that arrived on their anniversary, and certainly no Xander, since by this point he'd already been in stasis for three years. Not that Bridge knew that. And so after arriving back at the hotel late that night feeling lonely and homesick, he decided to try searching for London Below once again.
This time, he found it.
November 18th, 1936
The market was bustling around him, as usual. Bridge stood in front of a stall selling clothes, hoping to trade something for a warmer jacket.
"No," he insisted stubbornly, for what felt like the millionth time. "No deal." Meaning his gloves. They were the one thing he absolutely refused to part with. And the one thing everyone seemed to want. The stall owner waved him off, then, and he turned away meaning to try again with someone else when a girl of about thirteen tugged on his jacket sleeve.
"You're Bridge?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," he replied slowly. "Who's asking?" She merely shook her head at him and handed him a crumpled slip of paper. He smoothed it out and began to read, recognizing Aly's handwriting as well as the hotel stationery from where they'd been staying right after their arrival. He smiled as finished reading, hope bubbling up within him.
He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to the girl. Sure, it wasn't much, but it was more than *she* had, and besides, he owed her. She gave him a confused look as she found her hands unexpectedly full.
"Won't need it where I'm going," is the only reply he offered before disappearing in to the crowd.
[ooc: written in past tense cause it takes place in the past and all. ahaha, i crack myself up!]
He'd left the hotel again a few days ago to search the Underground for some sort of entrance to London Below. Having had no luck, he finally returned to the news that a letter had been left for him in his absence. Unfortunately, no amount of searching behind the desk in the hotel lobby where such things were usually kept could actually *procure* the alleged letter. The staff were very apologetic about the mixup. Less so about the fact that he was going to have to come up with some more funds if he expected to continue staying there. Which is why he ended up taking a job as a mechanic at a local garage, and okay, he might not admit it, but there was a part of him that was really kinda gleeful at getting a chance to work on "classic" cars.
April 13th, 1936
In this timeline, there was no letter from Xander that arrived on their anniversary, and certainly no Xander, since by this point he'd already been in stasis for three years. Not that Bridge knew that. And so after arriving back at the hotel late that night feeling lonely and homesick, he decided to try searching for London Below once again.
This time, he found it.
November 18th, 1936
The market was bustling around him, as usual. Bridge stood in front of a stall selling clothes, hoping to trade something for a warmer jacket.
"No," he insisted stubbornly, for what felt like the millionth time. "No deal." Meaning his gloves. They were the one thing he absolutely refused to part with. And the one thing everyone seemed to want. The stall owner waved him off, then, and he turned away meaning to try again with someone else when a girl of about thirteen tugged on his jacket sleeve.
"You're Bridge?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," he replied slowly. "Who's asking?" She merely shook her head at him and handed him a crumpled slip of paper. He smoothed it out and began to read, recognizing Aly's handwriting as well as the hotel stationery from where they'd been staying right after their arrival. He smiled as finished reading, hope bubbling up within him.
He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to the girl. Sure, it wasn't much, but it was more than *she* had, and besides, he owed her. She gave him a confused look as she found her hands unexpectedly full.
"Won't need it where I'm going," is the only reply he offered before disappearing in to the crowd.
[ooc: written in past tense cause it takes place in the past and all. ahaha, i crack myself up!]