She had more or less convinced herself she'd dreamed this place. The writers' room had gone on being the writers' room, they'd all weathered Hilary's rivalry with Grace Cavendish, and while Betty has no idea what happened to upset Mr. Winthrop, it seems to have blown over too
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Though the weapons are slightly worrying, perhaps.
"Mr.--er. Spoon, good evening."
He prefers not to have a title, if she remebers correctly.
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She's used to war news, really. But not to knowing people who are, as they say, in the thick of things.
"I've been fine," she adds. "A little busy, but nothing too out of the ordinary.
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"Metal monsters with human brains?"
Sounds alarmingly like something Captain Amazon would be battling, really.
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He couldn't find anyone to enchant his teeth.
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"Well, um. Is it appropriate to say 'good luck'?" she asks.
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Metal monsters just don't sound good.
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It really, really counts. "Did you get back alright, after last time?"
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"No one even noticed I'd gone, which either means nothing went wrong while I was away, or time didn't actually pass in Pittsburgh. Given the way things go at the station, it's far more likely the latter, but I heard Mackie announcing the time right before I wound up here this time, so I should be able to check when I get back."
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Betty tilts her head, curious.
"So people can pass through here to go to other places? And what does your father teach?"
[OOC: And the fact that I am recovering from a minor illness has just caught up to me. Slowtime? I should be around tomorrow evening.]
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"Self-defense and proactive demon killing." Spoon says cheerfully, "Yeah, I've been to a handful of worlds and alternate earths."
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"And I thought having been to New York was exciting," says Betty.
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