It starts, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Well, technically with a bright flash, and a thump as he hits the ground, but that's followed by a whimper. And the whimper is mostly caused by his pounding head, not the actual landing. The alcohol has dulled him to the pain of sudden impact with the ground, but not the thumping inside his head.
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But she's a sparky, as she calls herself, and she knows that feeling. It felt like lightning and there's hardly a cloud in the sky. So it's only a matter of time before she zones in on the source of the blast, even though he's moved.
She plops down next to him. "That was pretty impressive, I felt it all the way across the park. How ya doin', I'm Sarah. I'm a sparky, too. Did you mean to do that, or were you trying for something less... fire-causing?"
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"I... What? I didn't do... I didn't mean to... What?" He's not sure if he needs more or less alcohol, but he forces himself to try to sober up a little and clear his head.
It doesn't really help, none of this makes any more sense. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," he settles for eventually.
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She frowns a bit. This guy is a bit too much confused for this to be normal. And way too old to still be having issues controlling the sparkies. That leaves either nuclear radiation causing spontaneous mutation (unlikely), or he's only just now been dropped into the park with a massive amount of sparky energy and ability.
"Shit. Um. I haven't..." Flail, Sarah, flail. "I don't really know how to put this, but, um... I think you've fallen out of your universe through a rift in time and space and I think you can't go back I was never entirely sure on that point and I'm really fucking sorry. I suck at this."
She looks intensely sheepish. "If it's... any consolation, you're not the only one? I mean, I'm just from Maine, but..."
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Or at least, knows more than him, and doesn't seem to think him suddenly exploding a small part of their park is all that bad, so he doesn't need to fake innocence. That and she has an American accent, which tells him a bit more too.
"I... rift in time and space, what? Shite," Bernard says, getting up to pace a little, because he cannot absorb that much crazy information while sitting down. "I was just making toast, and then, and then, and then suddenly -- WOOSH!"
He gives a great big flail to punctuate his words, and his hand gives off a small spark as if to warn him not to flail too much. He doesn't listen.
"Great big flash, and I'm not in my kitchen anymore, apparently not even in London, I'm stranded in some park. What do you mean I can't go back?" he asks, winding his hands into his hair in frustration and confusion and despair as he stands there.
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