Well wasn't this the most ridiculous and useless obituary. No cause of death! No [i]date[/i] of death! What's an obituary without a cause and a date of death? More like someone's missing and everyone else just stopped looking. Poor Harriet Jones, perhaps the greatest woman of the modern world, reduced to a paragraph on page ten. To be fair, though, the preceding nine pages were full of color photos and exclusive stories on the terrible monsters that were killing people every day -- and on the fact that no one in London could seem get [i]out[/i] of London. Very interesting stuff.

The sentences blurred together as a sort of dizziness came over him. He swayed and closed his eyes while something tingly bubbled up his throat; very carefully he exhaled a lungful of regenerative energy that twinkled golden for a brief second, curled against the newspaper, then dissipated into the grease-heavy air. He kept his eyes shut against a momentary lightheadedness and listened to the strong quadruple pulse of new blood in his veins. He would never get used to this process. A shudder ran down his spine. He rather hoped he'd never have to.

But! He sniffed in a breath, opened his eyes, broke into a determined grin, straightened the newspaper with a snap. Right, then! There must be [i]something[/i] in that strange obituary that he'd missed.

A flick of his newspaper was followed by a very good question, if the quick rumble of his stomach was anything to go by. "Oh yes! Please! I'm [i]famished[/i]!" He smiled broadly with [i]fish 'n chips[/i] on the tip of his tongue, and folded the newspaper down so he could get a proper look at this keen waitress of the apocalypse -- and he did a double-take. The long red hair. The brilliant and fiery eyes. The [i]voice[/i]. The momentary shock on his face breached to a wide grin.

"Well look who it is!" he laughed. "Sor-cha Cooper!" he elongated the name in singsong, astounded and very pleased indeed. "I'm a [i]huge[/i] fan. Your work is [i]magnificent[/i] -- Lady Macbeth -- Christine Daaé, [i]Phantom of the Opera[/i]. You stepped onto the stage and took the theater world by storm. Bull by the horns!" He shook his head with a grin. "But what's a brilliant lady like you doing waiting tables at the end of the universe? Researching a role?" He raised his eyebrows, folded his arms on the table and leaned forward expectantly -- but the look on her face was more than slightly troubling.