Someone's noticed Robbie, in particular his 19th century dress, sheaf of papers, and apparently scholarly pursuits.
It's amazing to Kendra Saunders that someone can walk in here as if it's normal. She's still new, see.
His clothing is arresting because it doesn't seem to be an affectation, like that of a certain Gentleman Ghost she knows. It's also arresting because Kendra well remembers the 19th century. After all, she lived through it.
Fortunately, Kendra does not currently have a mouth full of tea, otherwise she might have performed a polite but spectacular spit take into a napkin on hearing 'Oscar Wilde.'
Her lips do part, however, for a silent moment. Then she closes them, because gaping at someone was considered rude in Robbie's time.
"'As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular.' That Mr. Wilde?"
And this would, of course, might be the Mr. R. Ross, with whose history is she is familiar, but she let's no indication of that show.
The quote she's offered will be said four years in Robbie's future.
"I do not know. That particular statement has not been brought up between us, but we've been terribly distracted as of late, so I might have missed him saying it. I know he will be great, but right now, he's struggling."
He's spoken to a few other patrons of the bar who have informed him of how Oscar's works will survive and become great classics among the literary world.
"But, he has published Poems, which he often quotes from." Robbie chuckles to himself. "He likes to quote himself."
"Fall of 1887," he informs her, then grins. "I am finding many people from various worlds and times enjoy his works. It's a wonderful thing, to know he will be great and known throughout."
"I hope this doesn't cause you to collapse in a dead faint, but I live in the year 2007. We still think very highly of Mr. Wilde. Most of us, anyway. Despite the ego and occasional flamethrower tongue. I mean sharp tongued," she adds, by way of explication, because flamethrowers don't come along for another fifteen years or so down Robbie's timeline.
"Oscar would be nothing without ego and wit," Robbie says fondly. "And it doesn't phase me to hear you are from so far ahead of myself. I met someone here the other day who referred to hippies and such, as well as a wizard who was a hundred or so years in the future from me."
He finds it all amusing, really, and rolls easily with what he's presented here.
"You have an unusually flexible state of mind, and I mean that as a compliment. Don't listen to anyone that complains about hippies. It means they take way too much time depriving other people of pleasure, because they don't have enough fun on their own. We call that 'being a tightass' where I'm from. When I'm from, I mean. How long have you been coming here?"
Well, it's true, as far as she's concerned. Her parents might be described as post hippies, after all, of the progressive Austin, Texas variety.
She sips her tea again, with obvious enjoyment. The wizard comment has definitely aroused her interest, but all in good time.
"Oh, Miniver was merely telling me about his time and the people there. I think he refers to himself as something of a hippie, though not quite. He's quite sweet, actually."
Robbie smiles at the waitrat when their sandwiches and tea arrive. He refreshes their cups, adding a touch of cream to his, and nods to the dish of delicacies.
"Do help yourself," he instructs with another winning smile. "I arrived in late June by my calendar, but it was late March here. So... perhaps two weeks by the calendar in this place."
Kendra has to take a few seconds to remember how to politely consume finger sandwiches in front of Victorian sensibilities. Her last life in the 19th century had been in the Old West, where justice was swift, life was hard, guns were ubiquitous, and men had resurrected the fine tradition of spitting in the street.
"Thank you very much, I will."
The thanks is genuine; Kendra doesn't often take to people immediately, but his charm seems utterly without artifice, and his friendliness genuine.
"Just two weeks? I mean...you can depart anytime, right? Nothing horrible has happened to you? No brawls or evil spells or anything?"
She helps herself to a sandwich, holding it as delicately as she can, and takes a small bite.
"My, I hope not. The first night I arrived, the door disappeared and I was trapped for a few days."
Terrible days.
He hadn't slept at all.
"Then it reappeared one evening and I immediately went home. A few days later, I stumbled back here and the door remained visible, so I lingered before returning. I've taken Miniver back with me for supper with the Wildes, but that has been my extent of excitement in Milliways," he concludes with a wry chuckle.
Oh, BOY. She hadn't known that was possible here. Maybe Oracle had told her; but she'd been too pissed off her first time here to remember everything Babara had said.
"Robbie, has anyone talked to you about how timelines work when other people from different timelines enter them?"
She's pretty sure it must be okay from Milliways, because if there was a place that existed solely to screw up other people's timelines, someone she knows would have sensed it. Dr. Fate, for example.
"I have a certain amount of sense where that is concerned," he says with a smile. "Miniver and I discussed it beforehand, and he even discussed it with the wizard he lives with."
The Victorians were so friggin' polite. She could picture Robbie inviting Hitler home for lunch if he walked into Milliways and wasn't raving about wholesale slaughter in Europe.
"Okay. I imagine it must be really strange, to hear about the future from people like me? Who's this wizard you met?"
She dares another bite of sandwich. She'd walked into Milliways at 4:00 AM her time, after a long night spent flying over St. Roch, restless and lonely, missing Carter; the food is quite welcome, and much better than the cold Poor Boy she was thinking of having for her late dinner.
It's amazing to Kendra Saunders that someone can walk in here as if it's normal. She's still new, see.
His clothing is arresting because it doesn't seem to be an affectation, like that of a certain Gentleman Ghost she knows. It's also arresting because Kendra well remembers the 19th century. After all, she lived through it.
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Her lips do part, however, for a silent moment. Then she closes them, because gaping at someone was considered rude in Robbie's time.
"'As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular.' That Mr. Wilde?"
And this would, of course, might be the Mr. R. Ross, with whose history is she is familiar, but she let's no indication of that show.
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The quote she's offered will be said four years in Robbie's future.
"I do not know. That particular statement has not been brought up between us, but we've been terribly distracted as of late, so I might have missed him saying it. I know he will be great, but right now, he's struggling."
He's spoken to a few other patrons of the bar who have informed him of how Oscar's works will survive and become great classics among the literary world.
"But, he has published Poems, which he often quotes from." Robbie chuckles to himself. "He likes to quote himself."
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It must be after 1880, by her calculation. It's been a while since she met a time traveler, if Robbie can be so called in the context of Milliways.
"I'm a great admirer of Mr. Wilde."
And it's true.
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He finds it all amusing, really, and rolls easily with what he's presented here.
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Well, it's true, as far as she's concerned. Her parents might be described as post hippies, after all, of the progressive Austin, Texas variety.
She sips her tea again, with obvious enjoyment. The wizard comment has definitely aroused her interest, but all in good time.
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Robbie smiles at the waitrat when their sandwiches and tea arrive. He refreshes their cups, adding a touch of cream to his, and nods to the dish of delicacies.
"Do help yourself," he instructs with another winning smile. "I arrived in late June by my calendar, but it was late March here. So... perhaps two weeks by the calendar in this place."
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"Thank you very much, I will."
The thanks is genuine; Kendra doesn't often take to people immediately, but his charm seems utterly without artifice, and his friendliness genuine.
"Just two weeks? I mean...you can depart anytime, right? Nothing horrible has happened to you? No brawls or evil spells or anything?"
She helps herself to a sandwich, holding it as delicately as she can, and takes a small bite.
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Terrible days.
He hadn't slept at all.
"Then it reappeared one evening and I immediately went home. A few days later, I stumbled back here and the door remained visible, so I lingered before returning. I've taken Miniver back with me for supper with the Wildes, but that has been my extent of excitement in Milliways," he concludes with a wry chuckle.
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Oh, BOY. She hadn't known that was possible here. Maybe Oracle had told her; but she'd been too pissed off her first time here to remember everything Babara had said.
"Robbie, has anyone talked to you about how timelines work when other people from different timelines enter them?"
She's pretty sure it must be okay from Milliways, because if there was a place that existed solely to screw up other people's timelines, someone she knows would have sensed it. Dr. Fate, for example.
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Everything had been carefully done.
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"Okay. I imagine it must be really strange, to hear about the future from people like me? Who's this wizard you met?"
She dares another bite of sandwich. She'd walked into Milliways at 4:00 AM her time, after a long night spent flying over St. Roch, restless and lonely, missing Carter; the food is quite welcome, and much better than the cold Poor Boy she was thinking of having for her late dinner.
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"His name is Draco Malfoy. A very cold individual, but wealthy and well-bred."
Which weren't all that important to Robbie, but something he had noted, coming from the same type of background.
"It was hard. Miniver... told me some things," he recalls, a shadow passing over his young features briefly. "It was... difficult."
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Kendra doesn't like the sound of that. At all.
"You were nice enough to take someone home to dinner with you, and he was a complete jerkwad and told you about the future, didn't he?"
Blunt? Who, Kendra?
If anything, it's a measure of her protective nature.
Prick, she silently christens Miniver.
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