“Kin one o’ y’fellahs get them something a mite stronger ta drink?” Sam drawled, leaning back and crossing her denim-sheathed legs. “A coupla shots’ll make th’ batshit crazy go down easier.”<br/><br/>William looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”<br/><br/>“I’ll get them,” Colin offered, pointed not looking at Kieran. “I could stand to stretch my legs anyway.  You didn’t move the drinks cabinet, did you.”<br/><br/>“Nope,” Samantha assured him, a touch of concern in her blue eyes. “Still there.”<br/><br/>“See,” Sam said, “a few o’ us ain’t where we think we are. Like one o’ them dime novels, me an’ Jackie an’ you an’ yer gal, we’re on a different world.”  She used her thumb to gesture at Samantha. “One where Ah done married a cute German fellah, an’ where some Martians leveled Chicago.”<br/><br/>William nodded carefully. “I see. Of course, that makes sense.”  He set his tea down. “Perhaps we’ve imposed on our hosts for too long, Mercedes?”<br/><br/>“You could simply be honest, and say you do not believe her,” Algernon remarked.<br/><br/>“No, no, of course not!” William insisted. “I simply...”<br/><br/>“Tell me, Mister Stone,” The Professor continued, “since you have never seen the Martians, I assume your world has no heat ray weapons?”<br/><br/>“No,” William said carefully. “We...”. He tended as the older man produced a pistol-like device made of crystal and brass. Without ceremony he pointed it at the fireplace and pulled the trigger. A crimson beam flickered for an instant, cutting a log in half.  “...don’t.”<br/><br/>“Do sit down, sir,” Algernon said mildly, returning the heat ray to it’s holster. “And... welcome to our world.”<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>“It<i>does</i>remind me of Berlin,” John agreed, looking around. He flashed Jenny a grin. “Not that I’d dare contradict my fair lady.”  He watched, both amused and concerned, as Clara rounded on the Puck and demanded to know why they had been brought here.  The Puck laughed aloud, chains jangling as she bowed.<br/><br/>“Why, t’is the will of Oberon.  And you have little enough to fear.”  She gave the cat a wary regard. “I have promised this, and never will the Puck be a liar called!”<br/><br/>“And why, good Puck,” John asked patiently, “is it the will of Lord Oberon?”<br/><br/>“Because,” The Puck said, “it is.”  She grinned, offering a broad wink. And then she was gone, transforming into a gust of wind that caressed bodies and pulled at clothes before departing. Only Clara was left untouched, Clara and the bored black cat in her arms.<br/><br/>John rolled his eyes. “Typical. Refuse to answer and cop a feel on the way out. Why do I ever expect sense from the Gentle Folk?”<br/><br/>Quentin, meanwhile, watched the ground car crawl past. “I... Yes. I feel it.”  Casting a wary eye in the cat, he opened his perceptions. “Dark, struggling towards the light. And... familiar, somehow.”<br/><br/>“So,” Yusuf said, clapping a hand on both Quentin’s and Kaydia’s shoulders. “The two of you know someone in this strange city?  A fellow knight, perhaps?”<br/><br/>“No...” Quentin answered slowly, trying to explain. “Just a presence. Someone I recognize.  Or, maybe, that I<i>will</i>recognize.”<br/><br/>“Good enough,” Yusuf decided. “You might be comfortable, but I’m freezing my balls off.  Maybe this maybe-friend has a warm fire and some wine.”<br/><br/>“And if it proves to be a foe?” John asked, idly curious.<br/><br/>Yusuf laughed. “Then maybe he has a warm fire and some wine!”