Kind friends and companions come join me in rhyme...

[contentwithoutcommand]

Who: David Long and OPEN
What: A new arrival to Baedal is attempting to get his bearings... looking like he just stepped out of a history book.
Where: just outside the Valhalla Inn
When: Mid-afternoon
Notes: Poor, poor man will be suffering from extreme culture shock throughout almost every second of every thread.
Warnings: Mild swearing. Will edit if anything else comes up.

Even the most unobservant person could likely tell that David Long was far from home, unhappy about it, and very confused. He stands outside the Valhalla Inn -- a very pagan name suiting the very pagan place he found himself now in -- desperate for a breath of fresh air.

He doesn't understand how he got here, but he is slightly annoyed by the condition he is in. His arm is wholly healed by now, thankfully, but he had been at work overseeing the application of a fresh coat of paint to Revelation. So, rather than white wool breeches with brass buttons, he has cloth trousers with pewter buttons. His white linen shirt is clean, at least, as is his white, light wool waistcoat. Of course, it's the one with pewter buttons, too. The uniform has brass buttons, but every officer's always does. It bothers him less that it's his undress. It is still very respectable. His black neckcloth has been set to right since his arrival, and the black ribbon that starts at the base of his skull and wraps his hair into a tight queue down his back ends at his shoulder-blades with two inches of hair left loose. That hair and what is visible on his head is dark brown and curly, with a slight red tint to it in the light.

Still, wherever he is, David has promised himself he will give no cause for shame to any brother officers who may be here.

He stands, dark eyes casting in one direction then the other. he holds the pamphlet in one hand, his... device? as it was called... in the other. the money he was given when let out of his room is safely in his waistcoat pocket. That gives him some sense of security, but it does not help his most pressing question:

What now?

Comments

[emptychamber]

Emily was not thrilled when she discovered her purse didn't contain her sunglasses, and now on top of what was probably a Communist plot of some sort, she would have to find sunglasses as well. Still, she'd been let out finally, and that was a (small) step up.

She comes out, adjusting her smart blue gloves, and glances around, having resolved herself to explore. When her eyes fall upon the man looking in odd bewilderment at his pamphlet and his radio - in that outfit - she narrowly avoids the urge to burst out laughing.

She wouldn't have credited the Russians with this much of a sense of humor.

Emily comes over, showing a fair amount of leg by his standards under her coat, and says, "If I'd have known it was fancy dress I'd have come as something more daring."

[incaptivity]

Although he's since moved out, Hal had spent enough time in the Valhalla Inn to develop something of an affection— or an association, at any rate, with stability and self-control and all the things he's very much needed since discovering himself to be alone in the flat he'd been sharing with his best mate and sometimes-caretaker. Strange as it may seem to consider the place that had introduced you to interdimensional kidnapping safe, the familiarity is comforting. And he could use what comfort he can get.

So this afternoon he's running laps around it, carefully duplicating his old route, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting grey trousers and a worn black henley shirt. When he sees the newcomer, though, he slows to a stop.

"Where did you get that waistcoat?"

...He'll register the man's unhappiness and confusion in a second, surely. First, the waistcoat.

[captaincocksure]

Jim's just passing through Mog Hill. That's all. Taking a walk and certainly not trying to see if he can run into the deputy sheriff with the white hat.

Except that he is.

He wants to make sure the guy's recovered okay, but... He's not an expert on the social mores of centuries past, but he's got enough knowledge to know that a couple centuries back from his time--which he gathers is the most likely time his new comrade hails from--a man calling another man he hardly knows to ask if he's okay could be taken as weird. Jim doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

But he doesn't see Raylan out on the streets, and he doesn't want to go do an earnest search for the man--also possibly weird. It seems his plan to casually run into the lawman on the street is a bust. Alas.

He passes by the inn on the way to the train station, idly sparing a glance for the people coming and going. And he spies David out in front, CiD and pamphlet in hand, looking completely lost.

...Speaking of centuries past. Jim is sure that's a military uniform, and a very old one at that. He's immediately sympathetic to another officer stuck in this predicament.

"Sir," he calls out as he approaches. "Forgive the intrusion. Do you need some help?"