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(no subject)

Who: Ginger
When: Day 1
Where: Ginger carriage

[Good morning, moms! How are you feeling? Scared and confused? Nauseous? Unhappy to be wearing leopard print right now? Well, at least you're not alone...]

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My name is Rufus. Put it that way, and you're being quite practical. Call me impressed.

[He should really worry about things like, y'know, poisoned tea, but whatever. There's no point in poisoning someone when you could have just not brought them to your weird train in the first place. All signs point to Angela being just another kidnapee, anyway.

So he pours himself some tea, and sits back to drink it. His movements are measured and refined -- every tiny little detail in the way he sits, holds a teacup, and generally holds himself screams "good breeding".]

Thank you.

It's a pleasure, Rufus. I'm afraid "practical" is in the job description, so I'm not to stray far from the path.

( His points are sound, because while she's certainly relaxed, she's not visibly comfortable. It's in the little things like the tension in her shoulders or the focus in her eyes, reacting to everything around her as if it's unfamiliar— it is, of course. Noises of a traditional train are nothing she's very familiar with.

But she's trying. Visible enough in the idle fretting and tea-brewing, which is unfortunately probably not up to par to royal standards. He certainly seems well off in how he holds himself. )

I don't know if anyone else woke to nausea, but if so, I hope the tea helps. We lean heavily towards coffee in Switzerland, and it's only stuck through medical school, I'm afraid.

"Switzerland"?

[Oh, yes. This "different realities" thing Peter was talking about appears again. He wasn't 100% sure he believed it, but he gave it the benefit of the doubt, and this seems to confirm it. He wonders if there's anyone else here at all who knows the same world he does?]

...Ah, the tea is perfectly acceptable. Although I couldn't say no to coffee. It isn't my preference, but it has its own appeal.

[Coffee is a commoner drink. And this is not the kind of tea you drink when you're a Duke's son but -- well. Bleh bleh nobility. Rufus will drink the mediocre tea with pride, but it would take a lot more conscious effort to hide his mannerisms.]

It's a little country in Europe, right between Germany and France.

( She's not had the "different realities" talk, unfortunately, so bear with her. If no one knows of Europe as a whole, however... )

I'm glad to hear it came out all right. I don't brew tea very often. If you'd prefer it, please let me know. I can find my way around a good cup of coffee far easier.

( My! A commoner drink. Angela would have never considered herself as such. So long as he's finding it palatable and it helps, however, she seems quite pleased if that little smile is any indication. )

And where is it you're from, if I may ask?

["Europe", "Germany", "France"-- Rufus feels like he needs to take a class on extra-dimensional geography.]

I'm from the Erebonian Empire. A not-so-little country in western Zemuria.

[There's humour in his eyes, though his smile is mostly hidden behind him taking another sip of tea. It isn't that he takes great joy in sharing his confusion, but... No, he's taking joy in it. But it's a generally good-natured kind of mischief.]

( There's a brief pause there, but the blank look that receives in response is broken with a blink, then an outright laugh she tries to muffle in her hand. )

So that means we're from very, very different places, or at the very least, very different times. We're quite foreign to one another despite similar appearances, aren't we? I apologize. I'm sure the Erebonian Empire must be wonderful. What is it like?

( That's all right; there are certainly worse things they could be laughing about. )

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