Sophie happens to be opening those doors when she sees the man in the winter coat pitching a fit into his bluetooth after beating what looked like a over sized and over glamorized watch.
Well then.
She'll stand there for a moment, letting him pitch his fit, and trying to figure out just what exactly he's ranting about before opening her mouth and actually deciding to be helpful. It's really the least she can do for the poor man.
"It's April thirtieth, two thousand eleven," she says in her usual clipped accent. "About five-fifteen in the afternoon if that helps."
Aand there's a person. Right there. It's enough to derail Jack's nascent rant, and kick in the circuits that say Oh, yeah, put on a respectable face. There's a beat of silence.
"Ah," he says. "...then I should probably take off this coat."
And he does so.
He's just bundling it over his arm when he looks back up, tacks on a smile, and says "Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry; you caught me on a bad day. Pleased to meet you. Just shy of May Day, huh?"
"Relatively, yeah," Jack says. "Relative to things like... I don't know. Days."
He sticks out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sophie Deveraux. Unfortunately I'm an old resident of the Windy City, at least so far as these things go. The city just finds it funny to bounce me around, and I get no say in when, why, or for how long."
"You seem to be handling it rather well, all things considered. I can't say if the world suddenly changed seasons on me, I would be quite so kind." She is barely managing to adjust to Chicago as it is. It is simply too much at once, and there are some parts that she can't manage to understand.
"Like I said, I have some practice," Jack says. "After a while, it's get used to things or go completely gibbering mad, and in my experience, gibbering madness is never as fun as you might think it to be."
We've apparently reached the stage of the conversation where Jack just says words and sees if anyone calls him on them.
Sophie approves of your creative English, Jack. Just for the record. Getting creative with the English language is all part of the fun -- so long as you don't go too far with it. 'Gibbering' is close enough to work for her, so she'll let it go for now.
"Hopefully 'gibbering' doesn't happen within the span of a few weeks. I'd like to keep my wits about me for a little while longer."
Well then.
She'll stand there for a moment, letting him pitch his fit, and trying to figure out just what exactly he's ranting about before opening her mouth and actually deciding to be helpful. It's really the least she can do for the poor man.
"It's April thirtieth, two thousand eleven," she says in her usual clipped accent. "About five-fifteen in the afternoon if that helps."
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"Ah," he says. "...then I should probably take off this coat."
And he does so.
He's just bundling it over his arm when he looks back up, tacks on a smile, and says "Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry; you caught me on a bad day. Pleased to meet you. Just shy of May Day, huh?"
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However, if handsome men were going to appear out of nowhere every day, she might grow to like this Chicago more and more.
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He sticks out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sophie Deveraux. Unfortunately I'm an old resident of the Windy City, at least so far as these things go. The city just finds it funny to bounce me around, and I get no say in when, why, or for how long."
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We've apparently reached the stage of the conversation where Jack just says words and sees if anyone calls him on them.
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"Hopefully 'gibbering' doesn't happen within the span of a few weeks. I'd like to keep my wits about me for a little while longer."
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