[Radu has been spending a lot of his time since he arrived eating pizza. Largely because A) unreplicated food, and B) He has this allowance the city's giving him and what else is he supposed to spend it on? (Except maybe clothes that aren't his old school uniform, but baby steps).
He's at his usual haunt when hey, it's that guy he spoke to when he arrived. He's not sure what Earth ettiquette is in the situations but... well he's eating alone, too. Isn't not alone preferable?
So Radu wanders over a little awkwardly, pizza tray in hand.]
[The pizza place doesn't have mirrors, and that's about what Ginsberg's looking for right now. Okay, he could probably see his reflection in the silverware if he tried hard enough, but he's not about to use silverware on his pizza, so he thinks he's probably pretty safe. Besides, pizza seems to calm him down, and he's not exactly going to complain about that. Whatever's going on around here seems just a little more manageable when there's pizza on the table.
So when the kid he'd talked to shows up in front of him, pizza tray in his hand, he nods at him, and smiles around his way too big mouthful of pizza, then gestures to the seat across from him.]
Hey! Sit down, eat with me.
[And maybe he's just a little desperate for companionship at the moment.]
Theoretically, pie shops should be pretty safe places. A pie shop really should be at the bottom of the list of places to worry about danger. But now he was going to have to reconsider his opinion on that, and maybe shuffle the list of safe places around a little, because the second he'd been set up on a date in a pie shop, he'd known it was going to go terribly. It wasn't being a cynic, it was just being a realist. Any date he was set up on was sure to end in disaster, especially one that had been set up by a coworker.
This one, though, had taken disaster to the next level. It wasn't so much disaster as it was completely apocalyptic, really. Ginsberg's been on bad dates. Of course he has -- he's been on more bad dates than good ones in his lifetime. For all those bad dates, though, he'd never had a piece of pie thrown at him.
And yet, that's exactly what had just happened thirty seconds ago. He'd said something (apparently something offensive, although really, he doesn't see what's so offensive about most of what he says, which might be part of the reason his dates go so poorly, but he can't be bothered to think about that now) and his date had not only gotten up to storm out of the place, she'd literally thrown her piece of pie across the table at him while yelling something about how he was the worst date she'd ever had and how he was going to die alone and miserable. Go figure.
So there he sits, lemon meringue pie dripping from his face onto his sweater, and all he can wonder is how many people are staring at him, and whether he has to pay for his date's piece of pie if she'd only taken one bite and then used it as a projectile. Right now, disappearing seems like a good idea, but sliding under the table just takes too much effort.
The shadow Ginsberg catches the attention of another shadow. The Thief in the Night creeps after the shadow before saying, "So dark the souls of men in this place when the shadows they fear come and walk again."
He hadn't known there were other shadow creatures like himself lurking about, but of course it stands to reason. He's not unique, no matter how much he may want to be, and there are other, more dangerous things in the shadows himself. This one is safe, because he's one of the shadow people, too -- Ginsberg won't attack him. Instead, he just regards him with a steady calm that's very unlike his normal temperament.
"Most people've been told not to be afraid of the shadows. They don't look closely enough to see whether there's really something dangerous there."
Dates are difficult, and he doesn't exactly have an easy time planning them. After way more consideration than purely necessary, he'd finally decided on the Museum of Natural History, figuring that it was the perfect place for a date -- somewhat quiet, somewhat interesting, and not a place that would make anyone assume they were actually on a date, even if they were. Besides, he has to admit, there's a little part of him that really wants to impress Ned, too, and museums have a certain intellectual flare to them.
There's also something to be said for the fact that the Museum of Natural History is just cool. Maybe it's juvenile, but he likes the animal dioramas and the dinosaur skeletons, and he already knows he can have good conversations with Ned. That's why he's practically pressed up against the glass of a display case filled with taxidermy animals from the savannah in it, amazed at just how lifelike everything looks -- no need to hide his enthusiasm for strange things around Ned, because Ned's already well aware of how strange he is. He's tried his best to dress nicely for the date, though, in a red suit jacket and a pink button down shirt, and he thinks he looks pretty nice.
"C'mere, look at this. How do you think people get a job doing this? I mean, not the taxidermy animals thing, just the putting together these exhibits thing. That'd be fun, I think. Maybe. Although there's only so many ways you can reorganize the exhibit before you get bored with it, I guess. I should probably stick to advertising."
It takes him a surprising amount of courage to muster up the nerve to call Ned, but he does, and as soon as Ned answers the phone, he's talking, barely giving Ned the chance to get a word in edgewise. Better to just say everything that comes to mind, before Ned has the chance to cut him off or to turn down his invitation.
"Hi, Ned, it's me. Ginsberg, I mean. I mean, you probably could have guessed it was me, but just in case you didn't, it is. Anyway, I was just wondering, um, one of my coworkers is having a Halloween party, and I don't normally go to parties, but I got invited to this one, and I figured if I was going to go I should go with someone who'd be fun to go with, and who might get along with my other coworkers, so, uh... you wanna go?"
Needless to say, he doesn't go to parties much. And he certainly doesn't ask people to go to parties with him much. It's all said in one breathless litany, as though he's afraid Ned will interrupt him and harshly reject him.
When the phone rings in Ned’s apartment around four in the afternoon that Monday, he’ll pick it up to hear a voice he probably doesn’t recognize -- a man, almost too gracious-sounding, just a little too friendly -- asking him whether he’s “friends with Michael.” A few seconds later, before Ned has a chance to respond, a woman’s voice in the background will audibly and somewhat irritatedly say, “Well, if he were friends with him, he wouldn’t call him Michael, would he?”
For a moment, there’ll be the sound of two people wrestling over control of the phone, and then all of a sudden, a woman will be speaking to Ned, sounding somewhere between exasperated and concerned. “Hi, is this Ned? Are you friends with Ginsberg? This is Peggy Olson, one of his coworkers, and I wouldn’t have called you except you’re the only friend he ever talks about, and Stan isn’t here today, and I didn’t think he’d want me to call his father.”
At this point, Ned might want to start getting concerned. Or baffled. Either reaction, really, would be appropriate.
He's starting to realize he's not too great at planning dates, because this one doesn't have a plan so much as, seemingly, the goal to wander aimlessly around. Normally, he'd be kind of concerned about that, because he'd worry he wasn't being entertaining enough, or romantic enough, or whatever enough, but this is a date with Ned, and Ned doesn't seem to have those same kinds of expectations.
Which makes it a lot easier to just enjoy walking with him and talking. They don't have to have someplace to go, they don't have to make reservations for anything, they don't have to get punched in the face at museums, all they have to do is pick a place that looks interesting and wander. No schedule, nothing. He likes it that way. He hopes Ned doesn't mind it, either.
That doesn't mean it's not cold as hell out, considering it's November, but at least there isn't any snow yet. His hands are shoved firmly in the pockets of his voluminous plaid coat, and he's got a scarf on, but he's still chilly. That's why he looks over at Ned a little nervously, checking to make sure that he's not freezing. "You okay? Are you turning into an icicle out here? Was this a bad idea? We can go inside somewhere and warm up, if you want. Or go inside somewhere and stop wandering around aimlessly, if you're not enjoying yourself. I don't really have any plans for this. I'm kind of making it up as I go."
He has to be at the office in an hour, but that gives them plenty of time to get coffee and chat a little before work. And besides, it's not like anyone at his job ever keeps track of who comes in at what time. Sometimes people stay there all night, sometimes people don't come in till eleven in the morning, clearly hungover. If he shows up at all, he considers it a good day, and he's one of the most reliably on time people in the building. It's a sad statement about his place of employment, if he really thinks about it.
With Ned juggling the cups of coffee, and his aforementioned offer to pay for it, Ginsberg willingly takes Ned's offered wallet from him and opens it up to grab some cash to pay for the coffee. As he's handing over the money, he catches a glimpse of Ned's driver's license, which wouldn't strike him as at all odd, except...
He turns a vaguely accusing eye on Ned, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday last Friday?"
[Oliver's checked the door. He's checked and double checked - the human way and the fairy way - and whatever the hell is keeping them in here it ain't moving yet. Really, as far as he can tell the only way they're leaving this room ever again is if whatever mystical force locked them up in the first place gets bored and lets them out again. So really, doing anything is completely unnecessary.
Which is probably why the fairy king is question is now lounging casually on the bed, a random book in hand that he dug out of the nightstand, looking for all the world like he couldn't care less.]
[How can this guy possibly be comfortable enough to recline on the bed and read a book when they're locked in a room with no way out and no idea what's got them locked in there in the first place? At any moment, someone could show up and, oh, murder them. That's what happens when you get abducted, right?
So Ginsberg's doing what he does best, and panicking. He's pacing back and forth in front of the door, as though it'll spring open if he just walks around by it enough. He's checked the door, too, but one thing's certain: it's pretty damn locked.]
I can't believe this... I just can't believe this... this is ridiculous.
Oh god, I'm so sorry about the other day. And...about all the weird things I said. And about talking so much about aliens, and just. I'll understand if you hope you never speak to me again, I swear I'm not usually so strange. Or drunk. I'm really not usually drunk at all. I don't know what got into me.
Hey, hey, don't worry about it. I found it pretty fascinating, actually. I mean, terrifying, sure, but fascinating. Of course I'm going to speak to you again. I'm speaking to you right now. Believe me, I'm used to drunk people. You're far from the worst I've ever talked to.
[He lets Ginsberg have his little nap, because he does look awfully cute and it gives him the perfect opportunity to snap a few photos. But eventually the food gets here and Oliver figures Ginsberg will probably want some while it's still hot.
So he gently shakes him awake, hoping the wafting scent of Pad Thai cushions the blow a little.]
[It's not really the hand on his shoulder that wakes him so much as the smell of the food, because even before he's fully conscious, he realizes how hungry he is. It must have been all of that fun they'd had. He opens his eyes blearily and rubs at his face.]
Sometimes when he shows up unexpectedly, it's for good reasons, reasons that'll put a smile on Ned's face (or at least, are supposed to put a smile on Ned's face; he always worries that his odd sense of spontaneity will backfire majestically one of these days.) In this case, though, when he's showing up at a time he's supposed to be at work, without calling in advance, without any suggestion that he wants to make plans, there might already be an inkling that there's something amiss.
Remarkably enough, given the reason he's here -- which Ned is soon to get an earful of as soon as he sees him -- he's not panicking so much as having a slow meltdown. It'd be easy to be pacing in front of Ned's door right now, but he's uncharacteristically still, hands balled into fists and shoved into the pockets of his too-big pants, waiting for Ned to open the door.
He just hopes he's there. Maybe he should have called in advance. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Is he just making it complicated? Those thoughts'll drive him insane in a hurry, if he doesn't successfully put them out of his mind. So he just knocks again. And then waits.
[ A small box, wrapped in heavy white paper and with Ginsberg's name written neatly on top, is delivered via whatever passes for a post office in the City.
The paper is wrapped around a wooden box, and nestled inside the box is a small mechanical bird, about four inches long from beak to tail. On the underside is a switch, which causes the bird to move its wings and tail and make a pleasant chirping sound. There's a note inside the box as well. ]
I thought this might be a nice compromise to the robot-dolphin issue. You can charge it the same way you do your network device.
[As soon as Ginsberg discovers the bird and stares at it in wonder for a little while, turning it off and on, listening to it chirp, he's grabbing his network device to text Tosh, because there's no way he can let this present go without a mention. It's got him all emotional, honestly -- that's why he's doing it via text rather than via voice or video.]
This is probably the best first Christmas present someone could wish for. And it's definitely a great compromise to the robot-dolphin issue. This little guy won't be taking over the world or murdering me any time soon, I don't think, but it sure is cute. And impressive. I can't believe you *made* this.
Tosh isn't even going to attempt to explain how or why it works (she'd have to admit she doesn't know, although she might qualify that with a 'yet'). It just does, and there they stand, next to the water tower on Roald Dahl Plass. It's a little overcast, but then rift activity does seem to play havoc with the weather. Or maybe it's just a typical rainy Welsh day.
"Right then. So welcome to Cardiff. And 2008."
She probably should check in with Jack right away, but it's not like anyone would have noticed her absence yet. And it might be better to ease Ginsberg into that whole situation slowly. "Why don't we nip over to mine and you can...ask questions or poke about or something. I hate to admit it, but I'm not quite certain where the big differences are going to be."
"Okay, 2008, so it's forty years later than it should be. For me, I mean. I guess I look pretty good for being forty years older."
He knows it doesn't work that way, of course (and that's good, because he sure as hell has no interest in being sixty four, that sounds appalling) but he can't resist the easy joke. At least, it's easier than orienting himself here. He's never been anywhere near Cardiff, and he's certainly never been anywhere near 2008.
"There're... probably a lot of questions I need to ask. So you'll probably have to prepare for that. Lots of stupid questions. I mean, I guess I can probably figure out a lot of it by myself, but then something really weird'll come up, and I'll look like an idiot asking about it, so I might as well just get all of that idiocy out of the way with you."
It's a little strange how things don't seem that different at first. Maybe it's because she'd never been to New York, so the whole experience is brand new. Really it's the clothes that stand out to her the most, and when she realizes how out-of-place she must look, in jeans and a leather coat over a long sweater, rather than the neat dresses and skirt suits she sees on the women around her.
"Don't know why I expected it to feel like something out of a film," she muses, half to herself.
The outfit may be a little out of place, but he figures people'll just assume she's some kind of hippie or something, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket like that. Sure, she doesn't exactly look like any hippie he's ever seen, but then, as far as he's concerned, anything goes when it comes to fashion. It's not like he's exactly matching most of the guys on the street, either.
He has to look around to orient himself, to figure out where they'd come back to, to figure out what moment of his life he'd been ripped from when he'd been taken to the City and returned to now. It takes a moment, but then he nods.
"Well, um. Welcome to New York. Welcome to Madison Avenue, as a matter of fact. We're pretty close to my office. I should maybe... I mean, I'm not gonna make you go to work with me, but I should probably go in and tell them I'm not gonna be back in the office today, that I'm sick from what I ate for lunch or something. They'll believe it, because they don't want to risk me throwing up in the creative lounge."
"Ginsberg!" Laruna called out his name, waving wildly through a crowd of people. She's like that crazy person who sees someone at the airport and just can't wait to see that person and is bouncing up and down on their feet and walking at the same time.
At least he can appreciate her enthusiasm -- he's one of those people who's inclined to wave wildly through crowds, too, so he's waving back almost as demonstratively, waiting for her to get a little closer before giving her a big grin. His grins never last long, but they're genuine, when he manages them.
He's been thinking about it pretty much nonstop since he started dating Ned (is he allowed to call it 'dating'? Is it that official? He'll call it that in his head, anyway): the fact that he wants to go on a date with Ned some place where it can actually feel like a date. Where they don't have to keep resisting the urge to be affectionate to each other, where they don't have to worry about saying something that'll get overheard and used against them, where he can just act like himself. He's mentioned this desire in the past, a couple times, always wistfully, and he's pretty sure Ned agrees.
But it's time to put that into action, he's pretty sure. Nervous as he's been about anyone knowing about him and Ned -- and for good reason -- he's finally decided that he should at least attempt to indulge his desire to be on a 'real' date. He and Ned had made plans to spend time together this evening anyway, so when he knocks on the door to Ned's apartment, there's already stubborn determination on his face.
And when Ned opens the door, the first thing he says, even before he greets him properly, is: "Do you want to go somewhere?"
Whenever you get to your desk next, Ginsberg, there's a note for you. A card in fact. One of those cards that plays a song. A very work appropriate song. Underneath it says:
wanted to see if you'd join me tonight. in town for a little while. I'll have the take-out ordered first this time.
He really should know better than to read cards from anyone at his desk. Especially cards that sing. As soon as it starts up its song, he slams it shut again, blushing furiously, hoping nobody's noticed, knowing that they'll undoubtedly give him shit for it if they have. He'd give someone shit for it, too.
Not that it doesn't kind of please him. Maybe that's why he keeps stealing a glance at the card all day, like it's going to disappear or something if he doesn't keep checking. And when work's over, well... he practically rushes out of there. Then realizes he has no idea where he's supposed to be 'joining' him.
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He's at his usual haunt when hey, it's that guy he spoke to when he arrived. He's not sure what Earth ettiquette is in the situations but... well he's eating alone, too. Isn't not alone preferable?
So Radu wanders over a little awkwardly, pizza tray in hand.]
Uh, hey?
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So when the kid he'd talked to shows up in front of him, pizza tray in his hand, he nods at him, and smiles around his way too big mouthful of pizza, then gestures to the seat across from him.]
Hey! Sit down, eat with me.
[And maybe he's just a little desperate for companionship at the moment.]
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This one, though, had taken disaster to the next level. It wasn't so much disaster as it was completely apocalyptic, really. Ginsberg's been on bad dates. Of course he has -- he's been on more bad dates than good ones in his lifetime. For all those bad dates, though, he'd never had a piece of pie thrown at him.
And yet, that's exactly what had just happened thirty seconds ago. He'd said something (apparently something offensive, although really, he doesn't see what's so offensive about most of what he says, which might be part of the reason his dates go so poorly, but he can't be bothered to think about that now) and his date had not only gotten up to storm out of the place, she'd literally thrown her piece of pie across the table at him while yelling something about how he was the worst date she'd ever had and how he was going to die alone and miserable. Go figure.
So there he sits, lemon meringue pie dripping from his face onto his sweater, and all he can wonder is how many people are staring at him, and whether he has to pay for his date's piece of pie if she'd only taken one bite and then used it as a projectile. Right now, disappearing seems like a good idea, but sliding under the table just takes too much effort.
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"Most people've been told not to be afraid of the shadows. They don't look closely enough to see whether there's really something dangerous there."
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There's also something to be said for the fact that the Museum of Natural History is just cool. Maybe it's juvenile, but he likes the animal dioramas and the dinosaur skeletons, and he already knows he can have good conversations with Ned. That's why he's practically pressed up against the glass of a display case filled with taxidermy animals from the savannah in it, amazed at just how lifelike everything looks -- no need to hide his enthusiasm for strange things around Ned, because Ned's already well aware of how strange he is. He's tried his best to dress nicely for the date, though, in a red suit jacket and a pink button down shirt, and he thinks he looks pretty nice.
"C'mere, look at this. How do you think people get a job doing this? I mean, not the taxidermy animals thing, just the putting together these exhibits thing. That'd be fun, I think. Maybe. Although there's only so many ways you can reorganize the exhibit before you get bored with it, I guess. I should probably stick to advertising."
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"Hi, Ned, it's me. Ginsberg, I mean. I mean, you probably could have guessed it was me, but just in case you didn't, it is. Anyway, I was just wondering, um, one of my coworkers is having a Halloween party, and I don't normally go to parties, but I got invited to this one, and I figured if I was going to go I should go with someone who'd be fun to go with, and who might get along with my other coworkers, so, uh... you wanna go?"
Needless to say, he doesn't go to parties much. And he certainly doesn't ask people to go to parties with him much. It's all said in one breathless litany, as though he's afraid Ned will interrupt him and harshly reject him.
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For a moment, there’ll be the sound of two people wrestling over control of the phone, and then all of a sudden, a woman will be speaking to Ned, sounding somewhere between exasperated and concerned. “Hi, is this Ned? Are you friends with Ginsberg? This is Peggy Olson, one of his coworkers, and I wouldn’t have called you except you’re the only friend he ever talks about, and Stan isn’t here today, and I didn’t think he’d want me to call his father.”
At this point, Ned might want to start getting concerned. Or baffled. Either reaction, really, would be appropriate.
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Which makes it a lot easier to just enjoy walking with him and talking. They don't have to have someplace to go, they don't have to make reservations for anything, they don't have to get punched in the face at museums, all they have to do is pick a place that looks interesting and wander. No schedule, nothing. He likes it that way. He hopes Ned doesn't mind it, either.
That doesn't mean it's not cold as hell out, considering it's November, but at least there isn't any snow yet. His hands are shoved firmly in the pockets of his voluminous plaid coat, and he's got a scarf on, but he's still chilly. That's why he looks over at Ned a little nervously, checking to make sure that he's not freezing. "You okay? Are you turning into an icicle out here? Was this a bad idea? We can go inside somewhere and warm up, if you want. Or go inside somewhere and stop wandering around aimlessly, if you're not enjoying yourself. I don't really have any plans for this. I'm kind of making it up as I go."
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With Ned juggling the cups of coffee, and his aforementioned offer to pay for it, Ginsberg willingly takes Ned's offered wallet from him and opens it up to grab some cash to pay for the coffee. As he's handing over the money, he catches a glimpse of Ned's driver's license, which wouldn't strike him as at all odd, except...
He turns a vaguely accusing eye on Ned, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday last Friday?"
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Which is probably why the fairy king is question is now lounging casually on the bed, a random book in hand that he dug out of the nightstand, looking for all the world like he couldn't care less.]
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So Ginsberg's doing what he does best, and panicking. He's pacing back and forth in front of the door, as though it'll spring open if he just walks around by it enough. He's checked the door, too, but one thing's certain: it's pretty damn locked.]
I can't believe this... I just can't believe this... this is ridiculous.
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Video
I...hope you're doing all right?
Re: Video
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Being greedy because I want naked take-out times
So he gently shakes him awake, hoping the wafting scent of Pad Thai cushions the blow a little.]
Hey. Thought you might be hungry.
Re: Greediness is good I approve
Mmmmpfff...
[Okay, that wasn't a word. Trying again...]
Yeah, I'm starving.
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Remarkably enough, given the reason he's here -- which Ned is soon to get an earful of as soon as he sees him -- he's not panicking so much as having a slow meltdown. It'd be easy to be pacing in front of Ned's door right now, but he's uncharacteristically still, hands balled into fists and shoved into the pockets of his too-big pants, waiting for Ned to open the door.
He just hopes he's there. Maybe he should have called in advance. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Is he just making it complicated? Those thoughts'll drive him insane in a hurry, if he doesn't successfully put them out of his mind. So he just knocks again. And then waits.
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Gift Delivery!
The paper is wrapped around a wooden box, and nestled inside the box is a small mechanical bird, about four inches long from beak to tail. On the underside is a switch, which causes the bird to move its wings and tail and make a pleasant chirping sound. There's a note inside the box as well. ]
I thought this might be a nice compromise to the robot-dolphin issue. You can charge it the same way you do your network device.
Tosh
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This is probably the best first Christmas present someone could wish for. And it's definitely a great compromise to the robot-dolphin issue. This little guy won't be taking over the world or murdering me any time soon, I don't think, but it sure is cute. And impressive. I can't believe you *made* this.
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AU Version 1 - Torchwood!verse
"Right then. So welcome to Cardiff. And 2008."
She probably should check in with Jack right away, but it's not like anyone would have noticed her absence yet. And it might be better to ease Ginsberg into that whole situation slowly. "Why don't we nip over to mine and you can...ask questions or poke about or something. I hate to admit it, but I'm not quite certain where the big differences are going to be."
Re: Oh man, this should be fun
He knows it doesn't work that way, of course (and that's good, because he sure as hell has no interest in being sixty four, that sounds appalling) but he can't resist the easy joke. At least, it's easier than orienting himself here. He's never been anywhere near Cardiff, and he's certainly never been anywhere near 2008.
"There're... probably a lot of questions I need to ask. So you'll probably have to prepare for that. Lots of stupid questions. I mean, I guess I can probably figure out a lot of it by myself, but then something really weird'll come up, and I'll look like an idiot asking about it, so I might as well just get all of that idiocy out of the way with you."
Trauma is always fun
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AU Version 2 - Mad Men!verse
"Don't know why I expected it to feel like something out of a film," she muses, half to herself.
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He has to look around to orient himself, to figure out where they'd come back to, to figure out what moment of his life he'd been ripped from when he'd been taken to the City and returned to now. It takes a moment, but then he nods.
"Well, um. Welcome to New York. Welcome to Madison Avenue, as a matter of fact. We're pretty close to my office. I should maybe... I mean, I'm not gonna make you go to work with me, but I should probably go in and tell them I'm not gonna be back in the office today, that I'm sick from what I ate for lunch or something. They'll believe it, because they don't want to risk me throwing up in the creative lounge."
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Right. So. Going with her showing up in his world... fuck plurk
Re: Plurk seriously sucks
"Hey," he says. "How're you?"
Ah, well, what can you do?
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But it's time to put that into action, he's pretty sure. Nervous as he's been about anyone knowing about him and Ned -- and for good reason -- he's finally decided that he should at least attempt to indulge his desire to be on a 'real' date. He and Ned had made plans to spend time together this evening anyway, so when he knocks on the door to Ned's apartment, there's already stubborn determination on his face.
And when Ned opens the door, the first thing he says, even before he greets him properly, is: "Do you want to go somewhere?"
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wanted to see if you'd join me tonight. in town for a little while. I'll have the take-out ordered first this time.
~ O
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Not that it doesn't kind of please him. Maybe that's why he keeps stealing a glance at the card all day, like it's going to disappear or something if he doesn't keep checking. And when work's over, well... he practically rushes out of there. Then realizes he has no idea where he's supposed to be 'joining' him.
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