(Untitled)

[gotbottle]

Rachel Conway is back in Grant Park, squinting curiously at the statue of Abraham Lincoln. At the lap that had been her landing point, when she'd found herself here, in this Chicago-that-isn't-hers. Nothing else has really worked for her, in terms of finding out what happened, why this happens, and how to escape it--she's not quite ready for Des

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[astrongerbeacon]

"It's not going to talk." The comment comes from an angel who's been prowling the park, possibly on orders from Vince. You find one demon breaking the rules of the treaty, it's not a bad idea to keep an eye out for others, see if she happened to have any friends.

Martin saunters toward her, glancing up at the statue, and then back at the girl - wanderer, he can sense that much, though not one he recognizes. Well, it's not like he's been paying attention lately. "At least, it's not going to talk as far as I know. It's not like I spend a lot of time around it, and I'm not a Chicago native, so who knows?"

[gotbottle]

Rachel nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, so engrossed was she in staring the old President down.

"Yeah. He, like, totally didn't say anything last time, either."

Belatedly, it occurs to her this is a perfect stranger, and she'd been warned to keep a low profile, so she adds, "Uh. I mean, last time I was here. You'd think I'd learn by now, yeah?"

She favors Martin with a friendly smile. "But thanks for the warning all the same. I'm not a Chicago native, either. Where are you from?"

[astrongerbeacon]

He grins a little, trying to reassure her. He knows the wanderers are jumpy lately, and for good reason, but really, he's not threatening at all! Just a big puppydog in angel form. Who happens to kill demons every now and then.

"A... lot of places. Germany originally, but... archangels like to travel." Of course, it wasn't Germany when he was born, but that's the name they use now. "Where're you from? Anywhere even... analogous to this universe?"

It's worst for the ones who come from completely different universes, not much better for those who come from a world similar enough but centuries off... But this woman seems like she's a little more secure here, so maybe she's one of the lucky ones. For a certain value of... lucky. Martin still wouldn't trade with any of them.

[gotbottle]

"Analogous to this..." Rachel repeats, blinking. "So, you... you know."

She bites her lip, trying to hold back the rushing case of nerves she feels coming on, but it's no use. All the things the Doctor and Des told her about all the troubles people like her have here, and all she can think of is, have I been found out?

She draws in a breath, and, before she can stop herself, she's launched into a verbal torrent, fueled by anxiety and worry and just plain being scared.

"I'm from New York. Not, like, New York, like, here, though, apparently, but like, New York on the other side of the Rift. I was totally minding my own business, at home, like, all asleep and everything, and next thing I know--"

She points up at Lincoln.

"--I'm sitting in his lap. And I have, like, no idea how I got here, or what happened, or why. Why? Why me? I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask to be here, and I just, like, want to go back, I want to go home, I don't belong here or, you know, have any sort of business being here