[Oh. It occurs to him for the first time that this might be a dream. Which is an absurd notion in itself because it implies he's been able to sleep long enough to have one.]
Are you sure? Things were looking rather hopeless there for awhile.
[He furrows his brow, trying to process what she's telling him. He's never been good with the technical side of time travel.]
So you're saying we're not in the space-time continuum at all. Or at least not ours.
[That's not good. Has anyone ever proved there was only one? He can't remember. Everything is a mess of Lady Schrapnell-shaped terror, the useless customs that made up the Victorian era, and the horrific gaudy hieroglyphics of the bishop's birdstump.
But if they're outside of it, does that mean they can't get back in? Is that why she's crying? How long has she been waiting for him? She looks roughly the same, so it can't have been that long.]
Well, it can't be too much different here, can it? I was walking round thinking I might just be time-lagged and unable to recognise Victorian London. Then I met a butler who gave me directions. He was even taller and younger-looking that Baine.
[Maybe she can risk it. If what Ichigo said about this place erasing people's memories when they return to their own timeline is true, then it should be safe to tell him a few things without disrupting the continuum.]
We were at the consecration of the cathedral. And there wasn't a surplice or a yellow chrysanthemum out of place. You don't remember it?
I think this is a sort of quarantine zone. I've met so many impossible people here, Ned. It's amazing. But one of them suggested that it was a sort of pocket universe or alternate reality, and I think we've been put here for a reason. There are too many statistical impossiblities happening in one place for this to just be some kind of accident. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get back to Oxford to check on my theories and I can't find a computer sophisticated enough to run a proper sim.
[She has either had a good deal more sleep than Ned has, or a good deal more coffee.
But finally, she smiles. She knows the man automatically by Ned's description because she feels exactly the same way.]
Isn't it though? He's the butler at the house where I stay. Daily I am faced with the preposterousness of his being a butler. And yet even Finch would envy his efficiency.
[But she's getting up out of her seat now, the snuffly noise of a bulldog following her.]
Where are you now, Ned? I'll come to you. There are so many things I want to show you!
Are you sure? Things were looking rather hopeless there for awhile.
[He furrows his brow, trying to process what she's telling him. He's never been good with the technical side of time travel.]
So you're saying we're not in the space-time continuum at all. Or at least not ours.
[That's not good. Has anyone ever proved there was only one? He can't remember. Everything is a mess of Lady Schrapnell-shaped terror, the useless customs that made up the Victorian era, and the horrific gaudy hieroglyphics of the bishop's birdstump.
But if they're outside of it, does that mean they can't get back in? Is that why she's crying? How long has she been waiting for him? She looks roughly the same, so it can't have been that long.]
Well, it can't be too much different here, can it? I was walking round thinking I might just be time-lagged and unable to recognise Victorian London. Then I met a butler who gave me directions. He was even taller and younger-looking that Baine.
... That part was kind of hideous, actually.
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[Maybe she can risk it. If what Ichigo said about this place erasing people's memories when they return to their own timeline is true, then it should be safe to tell him a few things without disrupting the continuum.]
We were at the consecration of the cathedral. And there wasn't a surplice or a yellow chrysanthemum out of place. You don't remember it?
I think this is a sort of quarantine zone. I've met so many impossible people here, Ned. It's amazing. But one of them suggested that it was a sort of pocket universe or alternate reality, and I think we've been put here for a reason. There are too many statistical impossiblities happening in one place for this to just be some kind of accident. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get back to Oxford to check on my theories and I can't find a computer sophisticated enough to run a proper sim.
[She has either had a good deal more sleep than Ned has, or a good deal more coffee.
But finally, she smiles. She knows the man automatically by Ned's description because she feels exactly the same way.]
Isn't it though? He's the butler at the house where I stay. Daily I am faced with the preposterousness of his being a butler. And yet even Finch would envy his efficiency.
[But she's getting up out of her seat now, the snuffly noise of a bulldog following her.]
Where are you now, Ned? I'll come to you. There are so many things I want to show you!
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