Sam Tyler was not amused. Not at all. Because, honestly, how often do you walk into a lobby and find it amusing? None, for Sam Tyler. Which should be a given really, since this isn't exactly where he'd wanted to go
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Svetlana nearly drops her tea at the sight of who she thinks is the KGB agent who has managed to derail her and her husband's life so spectacularly shouting like a madman.
She hesitates for a moment then goes over to him. "Comrade?" she asks faintly, in Russian. "What is wrong?"
By now Sam had slid down the wall in exhaustion, his good mood spent and his day ruined. Not that it had been looking to have been a particularly good day. 1973... not many good days in 1973.
The out of time police officer sat on the floor, his eyes closed and his jaw set, trying to calm himself down and find a solution for... for whatever this was.
He didn't need tea. He needed a pint. Of something strong, too. He needed... He needed Annie. Or Maya. He needed home. He needed not to be here. He gave a long-suffering sigh, his hand covering his eyes.
Sam took a sip of the offered tea and nodded. "S'good." he said, smiling a little. "Just like my mum used to make." He was trying to joke a little, a good sign, at least for him.
He took a few calming breaths, running a hand over his face again. "Why me?" he asked seriously. "I was already in 1973, how does this make anything better?"
She smiles, relieved that he seems to be calmer now. At his qusetion, she shakes her head, wishing she had better answers. "I don't know, I truly don't. I was in Bangkok, when I was pulled here."
He looked up at her, registering her lack of answers. Great. Another world. Another coma dream.
"I don't understand... why this keeps happening." He exhaled through his nose, looking to the floor for confirmation that simply wasn't there. "I mean... I wasn't even in any trouble this time. Well... I was comatose, but..." Is that what this was? Was he slipping further into a coma? 1973 not quite right for his current brain dead needs?
"I'm sorry," Svetlana says, sympathetically. "I wish I knew more. I don't understand this place at all. You can think things and they'll appear, but how or why? It doesn't make sense."
She glances at him. "It seems to be a good place." Asides from the occasional weirdness and that her husband is here with his mistress. Minor details, those.
She hesitates for a moment then goes over to him. "Comrade?" she asks faintly, in Russian. "What is wrong?"
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"NO!"
Cue futile kicking of completely innocent wall.
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As she thinks away the mess she realizes though he may look look like Molokov, the body language is all wrong.
She tries again, in English, this time. "Hello?"
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The out of time police officer sat on the floor, his eyes closed and his jaw set, trying to calm himself down and find a solution for... for whatever this was.
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"It is a bit of a shock to find this place, isn't it?" She thinks up another cup of tea and holds it out. "Have some tea."
First the tea, than the explanations.
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"No." he said, shaking his head. "That's fine."
Well, no, it wasn't, really.
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He was sceptical, of course. Tea did not really help much in the area of being in an inn that was supposed to be the station.
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Really, he was as stubborn as her husband. She had to wonder what his obsession was.
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He took it.
It couldn't hurt, could it? Not unless it was poisoned. But for all he knew, if he died, he'd get out of this nightmare.
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"You've come to the Inn," she tries to explain. "How or why, I don't quite understand. But here we are, all of us."
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He took a few calming breaths, running a hand over his face again. "Why me?" he asked seriously. "I was already in 1973, how does this make anything better?"
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"I don't understand... why this keeps happening." He exhaled through his nose, looking to the floor for confirmation that simply wasn't there. "I mean... I wasn't even in any trouble this time. Well... I was comatose, but..." Is that what this was? Was he slipping further into a coma? 1973 not quite right for his current brain dead needs?
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She glances at him. "It seems to be a good place." Asides from the occasional weirdness and that her husband is here with his mistress. Minor details, those.
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Hmm. Coma or unexplained realities? Hard choice.
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