A tall man with dark hair steps into the bar. He's wearing a dark suit, shirt open at the collar, with a cravat tied neatly around his neck.
He looks around the room, steps back out, and comes in again.
His face breaks into a smile that's more feral than friendly.
"Well, this is new."
Welcome to Milliways, Nikola Tesla.
tiny-and-eccentric!
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You know that old expression "a rabbit just jumped over my grave"?
That's pretty much what's just happened to Nikky when the newcomer walks in. He looks over his shoulder and his forehead creases in thought. It's not precisely the face he used to see in the mirror many years ago, but there's enough resemblance to be disconcerting fascinating.
For the moment, he just keeps an eye on the newcomer. No need to bombard him all at once.
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He does, however, raise an eyebrow as he quickly calculates exactly what that means. "So the patrons here are all from different times, yes?"
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Assuming that what this man (and Nikola almost thinks he might have his own hypothesis as to who he's talking to) says is true and not an elaborate scheme devised by the Kabal, it would be safe to admit his identity. Multiple universes would mean multiple Teslas, after all. And if it is a ruse of the Kabal, they already know who he is, so it's not harm to admit it.
"Well, then, yes. You've guessed correctly. I am indeed Nikola Tesla."
It feels so good to say that openly again.
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The slight sneer that accompanies this suggestion indicates he thinks the alternate version nothing like as good as himself.
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"Very liberating. Now, whatever I imagine, I have the resources to see through."
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Nikola hasn't had the same funding problems that Nikky has. He wouldn't consider leaving the planet simply for resources.
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