[i][indent][indent]Travius made a curios offer… “come to me if you require a weapon.” A blacksmith, and no doubt dealing in swords and the like, items that were obviously essential in this world. Not a good sign, but helpful. It’s now more than probably that getting myself a weapon would be a good idea. If only I had been in possession of my gun instead of my stupid phone when I was taken. No such luck…. But one thing’s for sure, I’m really going to need a weapon of some sort if I’m going to be in this place for a while. I guess I’ll be paying Travius another visit in the morning. But fuck, what the hell am I going to use for money? My watch? Hey, it was expensive, it’s made of gold, no doubt people here thought as much of gold as anywhere else on Earth… wait, this isn’t Earth, but still….  My items had enough of an effect on these people to find me wary, so maybe there is some trading value in that…. I don’t know, I don’t even know what’s going on. 

All I know right now is that my Hannah might be here, my baby…. But could she be? Had I actually been taken to the same place she had been abducted to? I mean… what are the chances of arriving in a place like this at all, let alone being the same place she had been taken to? But then… maybe that actually makes sense, maybe what took her took me too, in which case it would actually make sense that we ended up in the same damn place… right, Jack? After all, I was literally standing just feet away from the spot she had been taken from, one year to the day, when I too was taken. Not so much a coincidence when I look at it like that.  No… yeah… I can feel it in my bones. She’s here alright. Somewhere. But where?  When? The more appropriate question; When would she have arrived? It could have been years ago. There isn’t anything to say that she would have arrived here the same time I did. Maybe time is synchronized somehow. I’m no quantum scientist, but hell, maybe a year to me back home was a year here too. That would mean she arrived a year ago. Maybe… just maybe… but there is no way to tell for sure. All I know is I have to find her. But what if she is all grown up now? What if she’s been stolen and abused for years? No – don’t think that, you can’t think like that, God help any man that lays a finger on her – but if she’s settled down, gotten married to some stinky medieval bastard around here…. What if she doesn’t even remember me? Her father. Her daddy. Hey… thing is… Would I actually even know her if I saw her?[/indent][/indent][/i]

	Jack’s thoughts were interrupted. Not by noise or direct interference, but by the crowded Inn suddenly falling silent. His eyes took the door as once again the locals found reason to quietly scrutinize a young lady who had entered. 

[i]Maybe that’s Hannah? Similar coloured hair, hair change over the years. But no. Those sharp eyes, not like my daughter at all, and what the hell was that thing on her shoulder? Some sort of freaky rodent? Is that what passed as a cat in this world? What the...[/i]

As it turns out, falling silent like a bunch of stunned mullets and staring at people wasn't such an uncommon practice for these paranoid folk. This girl, notably a few years younger than Jack, seemed to have the same effect on them as he had, which was strange... interesting though. Since her general attire and overall appearance didn’t seem too estranged from what others were wearing – not like she looked like she stepped out of a portal from another planet or anything – so there must have been other reasons for the majority of these people to find her worth gaping in fear at.

He watched with speculatively as the woman and her weird-ass rodent made way to the bar and took a seat - which was when it happened, the one thing Jack needed to hear to open a window of opportunity: She raised her voice defiantly at her onlookers:

[b]'I know I'm nice to look at but there's nothing happening here. Why don't you all go back to whatever you were doing before?'[/b]

Jack chuckled, he liked her already, if for no other reason than her audacity in the face of prejudice. This girl wasn’t frightened. She had something over them. But what? It's not like she was of intimidating size, either. Maybe that feathery rat on her shoulder had something to do with it? Whatever it was, it scared the hell out them, but she handled her obvious status with style. If there was anyone there, anyone at all he could possible approach for answers, it would be her. Nothing better than approaching another misfit for information, and judging by her remark to the crowd, she would likely make a note of being brutally honest. An admirable quality in Jack's eyes. One things was apparent, however; fear wouldn’t influence her reaction to Jack. 

He watched her for a while. Form his position near the door, he could see that she paid the old bartender with what looked like coin. Good, that meant they had a form of currency. Unfortunate for Jack, he had none of what they used. The same recurring problem…. He wondered how easy it would be to rob some helpless lowlife in this world and get away with. God knows he had a talent for theft in the real world, his world. But that was a different matter. But wait, was he mistaken or did he just see this girl talking to herself? Maybe she was crazy, [i]not right in the head[/i], so to speak. Maybe that is why the others feared her. Leave the crazy lady and her rodent alone. 

Nevertheless, Jack waited a while longer before rising from his chair, since he didn’t want to cause any possible suspicion by approaching her too soon. While he waited, he fished through the pockets of his jeans and found a few coins from back home. An Australian two dollar coin, two twenty cent pieces, and a fifty cent piece. He only just then realised his wallet was also in his back pocket. He didn’t bother to check, but he was sure he had a couple of fifty dollar bills in there. Now, he knew of course his own money would likely not be recognised as currency here, but maybe there was a way to swindle a deal with the old and frightened bartender. After all, Jack could have really done with a stiff drink as well, and this water wasn’t even worthy a look at. Maybe they had a beer. In a bottle. [i]Maybe[/i]. 

It must have been a good five minutes before he got up, his jug of water still untouched. Yep, once again many in the tavern grew silent to watch him walk to the bar, but it wasn’t as bad as their previous reaction to him, they must have been losing interest to some degree, or maybe after observing the girl and her rodent, Jack kinda paled in comparison. 

One can hope.  

The others patrons at the bar had made a wide birth around the girl and her rodent, which made it easy for Jack to walk up close to her without rousing suspicion of being deliberate about it. Besides, if she lived in this town and had any fashion sense at all, she would likely see that he wasn’t from around here, and therefore she should have no reason to feel like something threatening was taking place. He’d likely just appear as an out-of-towner walking to the bar for a drink. 

Of course, he didn’t say anything to her at first, his attention mostly on the withered old man behind the counter, but he did take a moment to steal a closer inspection of the animal on her shoulder. 

[i]I don’t think that’s a rat. Good lord, I have no idea what that is. It has friggen wings though, so that’s new. And thank all things merciful, this lady didn’t seem to smell like the majority of the people around here. Yeah, she smelled too, but it wasn’t so potent as the majority of body odour around this place. [/i]

The bar tender was there to meet Jack, wide eyes of feared anticipation again. 

“Was the water to your liking, sir?” He almost stammered, then froze in preparation for the worst possible response from Jack. 

“You know.” Jack told him with a smirk, not raising his voice at all, and hopefully, secretly, attempting to gain the girls attention, maybe even impress her with his wit. Maybe that would help with her acceptance of him somehow. “If you expect the worst, the worst will likely happen. Looks like you’re about to suffer from heart failure or something, so relax, old man. But no, you’re out of luck, the water was hardly worth looking at, no less drinking. You got something in a bottle? Something sealed? Something actually clean enough to drink?” With that, Jack slid a fifty sent piece across the bar for old man to take as he perched himself on the stool right next to the woman and her winged rat. “How about a beer? A bottle of Merlot? Mead? Rum, perhaps? 

The old man wasn’t set at ease by Jack’s witty candour, he just stared dumbfounded until Jack mentioned the words Mead and Rum, at which he nodded sharply, saying;

"Rum or mead, yes, we have that. Which would you prefer?” 

His eyes then went to the coin on the counter, to Jack, to the coin, then back at Jack again. He seemed even more petrified now, apparently unwilling to be confrontational about the type of money Jack was offering him. Finally making a decision on what to do, the man swiftly grabbed the coin and shoved it in his trouser pocket, almost like he was trying to prevent anyone else from seeing it. Too late of course, anyone nearby, including the girl next to them, would have probably seen the unusual currency sitting there before he snatched it up.

“Hmm…” Jack replied. “Maybe a bit of both, a bottle of mead, and a few mouthfuls of rum. Thanks.” 

The bartender placed the corked bottle of mead in front of him then poured a cup of rum. After serving Jack with a shaking hand was done, he gave another nod and promptly walked away to tend to other matters. 

Jack rested with his elbows on the counter, sunk back the rum quickly to help settle his own nerves in anticipation for making contact with the girl. He had to be cool about this. Collective. He released a sigh of satisfaction, since the rum actually wasn’t all that bad. Seemed clean enough anyway. Then he popped the cork from his bottle of mead before turning his head to look at the girl. He was about to speak, but then hesitated when he saw the look on her face. Jack had been around the block many times, and it didn’t matter what world a person was from, he could tell when someone was troubled by something. 

He rethought his words, cleared his throat, took a swig of the sweet mead, and then finally asked her casually, softly; “You alright there, mam?” That said, and despite his genuine sounding sentiments, he made a note of keeping his gold Rolex watch within view for her to see. If nothing else, maybe it alone could act as a lure, something to make her more willing to interact. She likely wouldn't have known what a watch was, but hey, it should have been interesting to her at the very least. Again …one can only hope.