Men, women, and even children all around. Mortimer wasn't sure if he was surprised, worried for them, or happy he wasn't alone. He might have been proud. To be chosen - no matter how randomly - to be of a superior race seemed like a blessing from the gods that had come and gone. This could've been the next chapter in the rare ancient texts that came from the exalteds' praise! That was something he could talk about. He could talk to ALL of them about it. They all had a reason to be interested. Someone might have seen something that would interest him! Old, massive, and mass produced texts concerning god-like power! The parchment that had made blood spill and charity save! The start of the world! As well, the e-

Mortimer's fantasies were broken rather easily by a polite comment. Self-awareness covered him, as did a grateful, close-mouthed smile over his bearded face. He removed the square clothe and buffed his round lenses. After returning them to their place along the straight bridge of his nose, He deftly folded the thin rag and left twin black peaks protruding from his breast pocket. He had little time to verbally thank the caretaker, before he owed her twice as much for sparing him from a nearby woman's drink. He debated whether she could see something of the future, or was just convenient in every way. He took a step aside for those coming to her aid and rounded one hundred eighty degrees.

In front of him now was a woman with the manner and fear that she was about to vomit, and he was no longer feeling at ease. As politely as he could in the rush he was feeling, he snatched a drink from the tray of one caretaker roaming in the crowd. [i]Convenience at it's best here in first haven. A nice change. The water is ice cold.[/i] Mortimer thought and, in a more casual pace, took two more for the man alongside the poor gal as well as himself. The man seemed to be in as much strife with strong hiccups and injured... well everything. [i]A barfight could've brought upon everything ailing this gentleman,[/I] he considered playfully but dared not say. Instead he found that glee a home when he offered them with a smile the drinks, his deep voice attempting to calm and relieve the tension of this disheveled couple.

"God's Final Message to His Creation: 'We apologize for any inconvenience.'" He recited from a long lost favorite of his. Shaming an unknown power for the couple's current state and at the same time mocking their unique situation. Mortimer scorned himself for speaking in reference that few knew, but did not let it show. "I hope this will help. Remedies provided by Mr. M. Murdoch."

Another smile adorned his face while his eyes searched theirs for any idea what was going on or how they felt about it, besides sick.