The possibility of tips aside - and really, when did strangers (with the emphasis on [i]strange[/i]) ever tip well? - Sorcha still wasn't entirely sure she was happy that the man chose to stay. However brief, his speech and seeming recognition had unsettled her. And she didn't like being unsettled. But he was a customer and by eventual proxy he was paying the rent on her flat, so it was with simply a set of rising eyebrows that she wrote down his order, only pausing to give him an incredulous look at the decision that apparently a strawberry milkshake was the best thing to go with his... varied meal.

She was so passing this one off to another waitress as soon as she got out back.

Composure somewhat recovered, Sorcha was about to turn on her heel when the man began talking again, this time on a somewhat more normal topic - the Reapers. Tell her six months ago that holding a conversation about great reptilian beasts that fell out of a clear sky and devoured anything (everything) in sight would become normal in the next year and she would have laughed in your face; now it was simply reality. "What, you been hibernating for the last six months?" She snorted, drumming her fingers against her side as she pretended to think back - a farce; who wouldn't remember the date the world changed? "February 2nd, just over six months ago. Just outside Waterloo station. 11.17, if you want to be so specific," she added archly; she'd been lucky enough (if that was really the correct word) to see what was commonly accepted as the first appearance. It was the sort of thing that tended to etch itself into your memory - and she'd missed her train that day, too. In summary: A Very Bad Day.

Her unease of moments past was quickly being replaced with something more akin to bewilderment - how could anyone possibly claim ignorance? These conversations had peppered uncomfortable train journeys and awkward social chit-chat alike over the last half of the year - when the apocalypse was slowly happening and you couldn't escape, it tended to take over every possible social convention. Sorcha had been under the impression there wasn't a soul in London that hadn't already aired their own private theories as to why it was happening. 

"What d'ya think? Of course people have guessed, it's been all over the telly." She replied. "Last I heard, the most popular theory is that 'humanity is at last being punished for their sins'." An unladylike snort. "I've barely had a chance to sin yet, so that's rubbish." Her lips quirked briefly in dry amusement that quickly faded as she stared at the man in pure confusion. "How can you not know any of this? Nobody's been able to get in or out of London in six [i]months[/i], you'd have to be blind not to have noticed it before now."