(Untitled)

[wagglingfingers]

Alex Drake is disoriented in a way she hasn't been since she woke up in 1981 dressed as a prostitute. Her life's been one mess after another for the last few days, between Gene and Sommers and Chris and everything else that's been happening, but she's been getting better, too, sharper and stronger and clearer, and Molly's been so close she could

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[definitivestep]

Sometimes Sam just has to ignore the fact that every time he leaves the Tower, something disastrous happens to him. This time, at least, he's managed to make it to the park without being attacked by psychopaths or hit by a car or ambushed by Dmitri, so that's something. It's probably good for his sanity to be outside of the Tower anyway, with that gnawing sense of something there and watching.

When he reaches Cloud Gate, though... After you've been here long enough, it's not exactly difficult to pick out brand new wanderers, and this one in particular reminds him of something, though he can't quite put his finger on what. A face from another lifetime...

Sam frowns, and starts toward her across the plaza, sidestepping neatly around tourists and excited children along the way. It's been a while since he played welcoming committee...

[wagglingfingers]

Though Alex has only seen his face in pictures, it's still seared into her mind. Which, she supposes, is why it isn't too surprising that her brain's created yet another construct for her; she's listened to his tapes and read his notes, after all. She was even going to write a bloody book on the man, and now, here he is, in the flesh. Well, the imaginary flesh. Which does not look at all like it's jumped off a building or driven into a canal and is, in fact, very much alive.

"Sam?" she asks, though she knows it's a foolish question. Who else could it be?

[definitivestep]

Sam's steps slow. New wanderers greeting you by name is probably not a good sign. It is, at least, more than a little unsettling.

"...Yeah," he says, searching her face with a frown. "Do I know you?" Silly question, maybe, but after Jack, he thinks he's allowed a little uncertainty there. Parallel universes complicate things and when did this get to be an ordinary sort of thought process for him? (The answer to that, of course, is a long time ago - he's mostly resigned himself to it, but every now and then, it's necessary to step back a little and wonder about his life.)

[wagglingfingers]

Right, this is a difficult question to answer. In Alex's experience, people don't appreciate being told that they're merely a figment of your imagination. She takes a few steps towards him, closing the distance. "We've never met, no. I'm Alex Drake. You sent me your notes on your experience in the- in 1973?" 'The past' sticks in her throat, and she can't quite bring herself to say it. Is Sam wasting away in a hospital bed somewhere, too? Are there more people in their situation than she'd ever thought possible? She'd thought this world was all her creation until she met Sommers. Now, she's not so sure.

[wedontjump]

Annie is out re-charging.

Also doing some shopping, because hardly anyone does, and Ianto might be a god with the coffee maker, but she swears he can't make a proper cuppa, whatever he might say, so... shopping. It helps that the clouds are pretty thin and the sun's still up and she can get a good recharge out of this - she was starting to feel a bit out of batteries, as it were.

But shopping trip aside, Annie is a good soul, so when she sees the woman by the Cloud Gate looking so obviously confused, she can't just leave her.

"Excuse me," she asks helpfully from a few feet away. "Do you need some assistance?"

[wagglingfingers]

Alex tilts her head at the other woman, listening to her accent. Has her brain decided to populate America entirely with Brits? And if so, how long till the ubiquitous Gene Hunt shows up? (Not that she'd mind Gene showing up, but they have to have Words first. Probably the sort of Words that involve shouting and chucking her shoes at his head.)

"I..." She doesn't know if she needs assistance, to be quite honest.

On the other hand, she's fairly certain she needs a drink.

[wedontjump]

"Ah." Annie gets that look. It's the 'dear god, how did I get here? AND WHERE IS HERE? OH GOD!' look that new Wanderers get. She's pretty sure she had a version of it when she showed up. "You're new, then? You're in Chicago, it's the year 2009, and if none of that makes sense to you, I'm sorry."

Sheepish Annie is sheepish. "You've fallen through a hole in time and space, so they tell me. And you've wound up here. Different world. No way back that anyone's found. Um, I can take you somewhere if you need a place to stay."

Beat.

She offers her hand with a tentative smile. "I'm Annie."

[wagglingfingers]

Right. This is bizarre, even for her mind. At least London was normal. Nobody was going on about holes in time and space or magically crossing the Atlantic Ocean or anything equally absurd. She suddenly feels a pang of longing for her nice, quiet flat above Luigi's (quiet being relative, especially if the rest of CID is downstairs).

Alex takes her hand, shaking it. "Alex Drake," she introduces herself. And although she doesn't have any intention of staying here long enough to need a place to live, that was what she'd told herself in 1981, too, and look what had happened there. "I would appreciate it," she adds. "The place to stay, that is. And maybe a drink, too."

[magelet_daine]

The thing about shifting is that Daine hasn't actually... done it since she got to Chicago. She's just been too nervous to try it - after all, it was a new ability, and she didn't have any of her usual anchors or friends to help her if something went wrong.

But she was communing with the kittens she has curled up in a blanket in her bed. And then she was... sort of a cat.

And when she went out to get help, she sort of got too enthusiastic and ended up in the elevator with someone who kindly opened doors for her and...

Well, she's been outside for a while. She can't even get into the hotel, much less the basement. And she can't shift out here, she'd be naked. And... well, when she sees the new person appear in the park (where she was wandering), something in her said that it was the best idea to try to convince her to let her into the hotel.

Here, Alex. Have the LEAST HELPFUL WELCOME WAGON EVER. Rubbing against your legs and mewling.

[wagglingfingers]

And now her brain was creating animals. Fantastic. She'd arranged for Molly to get a parrot for her birthday, but this is very much not a parrot. It is, in fact, a kitten, of the small and fuzzy variety. The sort that warms the cockles of Alex's heart, in fact.

"Hello there," she says to the kitten, scooping it up in her arms. The warm, fuzzy presence soothes her, actually, though she hasn't been around cats in ages - not since Molly (Pete's cat, not her daughter) died shortly after she met him. She pets the kitten absent-mindedly.

[magelet_daine]

Daine can't help it. She gets scooped up and pet and she just starts to PURR.

But there are more important things here.

Ma'am. Ma'am, I need you to take me to the hotel not far from here. She mewls a little and taps Alex's shoulder insistently with her paw, looking solemn.

[wagglingfingers]

Oh, God, and now the kitten is purring. Well, at least her brain is being nice to her for once. "Aren't you just darling?" Alex coos as it paws her shoulder.

[cyfor]

There is another kitty on the street, Alex. She's been following you since you showed up, and has decided it's about time to make herself known.

So, to that end, she will bound quite literally underfoot. And then yowl as though she's been slain, because THAT WAS A HEEL. ON HER TAIL.

[wagglingfingers]

Alex trips and nearly turns her ankle on the kitten, cursing under her breath as she regains her balance. "You ought to stay out from underfoot, you know!" she scolds the kitten.

[cyfor]

Cy hisses and scolds right back. "Watch where your underfoots are going, got those tent poles on your feet. Go trip back into the circus with your clowns."

She twists up around herself and licks at her deeply, tragically wounded tail for all of five dignified seconds before she spots something invisible over her shoulder and freezes, twisted about with her tongue out.

[wagglingfingers]

Oh, God, the cat is talking. Talking. Alex isn't sure how much more of this she can handle, and she carefully sits down.

"Why are you talking?" she asks. Because it's a good place to start.