(Untitled)

[liz_imbrie_]

((OOM: September 1, 1939, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Warning for implied sex.))Elizabeth Imbrie comes into the bar, clearly in a very good mood, and with the sort of smile that only cats with feathers in their teeth have. She goes straight to Bar and asks for a cheese sandwich and a glass of champagne, dropping one of Arithon's coins into the

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[highking]

Peter heads up to the bar to get tea, as usual.

The newspaper is not usual.

He stops and stares at it, his eyes wide.

[OOC: Meep! Just noticed you were in. You still around?]

[liz_imbrie_]

Liz sees him out of the corner of her eye, and turns to smile. She's about to offer him some champagne (though not in the tea, this time), but stops.

"Something wrong?"

((OOC: In and out; glad to catch you!))

[highking]

"Dear lord," he whispers. "Is that your newspaper, Miss Imbrie?"

[liz_imbrie_]

"I don't know why Bar gave it to me, but she won't take it back. Why?"

[highking]

He points to the date. September 1, 1939.

"Is that the date for you, in your world?"

[liz_imbrie_]

She nods.

"I forgot to say 'rabbit, rabbit' when I woke up, but somehow I don't think my luck will be too bad."

She smiles, and it's the Sphinx's smile. An ignorant Sphinx, but we can't have everything.

[highking]

Peter is, at the moment, in no mood for jokes.

"You may want to read this newspaper, Miss Imbrie. Trust me."

[liz_imbrie_]

"It's ten years ago for you," she grumbles, but puts down her drink.

[highking]

"Exactly why you should take my word for it. I know what's in there."

He knows better than to tell her what's going to happen, but... well, she should know.

[liz_imbrie_]

She sighs. He has a point, and she can tell he's upset.

"This isn't when you died, is it?"

But she pulls it closer to her, and glances at the lead.

"Well, that's ridiculous," she says, tapping the subhead that reads Foreigners Are Warned They Remain in Poland at Own Risk--Nazis to Shoot at Any Planes. "How are they supposed to get out?"

[highking]

"By foot, or car, or train - any way they can, if they know what's good for them," Peter says, looking very grave.

[liz_imbrie_]

"It's just what's-his-name, the fellow who looks like Charlie Chaplin."

She shrugs.

"He's an odd one. I wish he'd stop worrying everyone."

[highking]

"Adolf Hitler," Peter says, almost reflexively, and angrily, and with a tinge of fear, "is nothing like Charlie Chaplin."

[liz_imbrie_]

"That's his name! He's got better clothes, at least, you've got to admit that."

But she did hear the chime of fear in his voice, and searches his face, her good mood put on hold.

"What did he ever do to you?"

[highking]

"I think," Peter says softly and sadly, "I'll have to let you find that out on your own. It doesn't do to fiddle with time much."

He should know. His best friend fiddled with time, and is being hunted by Nyarlathotep as they speak.

[liz_imbrie_]

"I don't under-- all right."

She'll be back. She can ask next time, ask a good deal more carefully.

"I haven't met your friend yet," she says, changing the subject (but not, if she only knew), "but I'll keep an eye out. Have you met many new people since I saw you last?"