A tall man with dark hair steps into the bar. He's wearing a dark suit, shirt open at the collar, with a cravat tied neatly around his neck.
He looks around the room, steps back out, and comes in again.
His face breaks into a smile that's more feral than friendly.
"Well, this is new."
Welcome to Milliways, Nikola Tesla.
tiny-and-eccentric!
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You know that old expression "a rabbit just jumped over my grave"?
That's pretty much what's just happened to Nikky when the newcomer walks in. He looks over his shoulder and his forehead creases in thought. It's not precisely the face he used to see in the mirror many years ago, but there's enough resemblance to be disconcerting fascinating.
For the moment, he just keeps an eye on the newcomer. No need to bombard him all at once.
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Nikola notices the man watching him. It's uncanny, really, the resemblance. That's almost exactly what he'd expect to have looked like had he continued aging.
But if the man is just going to watch, Nikola will return the favor.
It's possible, though, that there's more malice in Nikola's glance than he's receiving in return.
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Of course, it could just all be an incredible coincidence. Certainly others have met those who look just like them only to find out that they are completely different people.
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"See something you like, old man?" He's just on the verge of leering.
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He smiles practically innocently. It is such a chore not being able to bask in his fame anymore. That's the downside of faking one's death, of course.
The thought that he may indeed be speaking to an alternate version of himself hasn't even crossed his mind. Probably because he hasn't yet figured out where he is.
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There's nothing in his face to indicate this is anything other than the absolute truth.
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Of course, other things explain that, but they're less commonly known.
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