tushanshu | 003 - Besides, by and large she was having a very good time.

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003 - Besides, by and large she was having a very good time.

[AUDIO, public. Una sounds as composed and friendly as ever, her cut-glass accent as reassuring as a BBC news anchor's.]

To those of you I've not met before—hello. My name's Una Persson. I'd like to canvass the foreigner population here with just a brief question—who here is familiar with time travel, in the world from which they come? I'll be quite transparent: it's something with which I'm very familiar, and I'm curious to know who else is as well. Should you prefer to discuss this face-to-face, I live in the Wood sector. [A pause.] And if you're familiar with the technology behind it, I'd be especially interested in hearing from you.

[TEXT, separate messages sent privately to Bruce Wayne and Dorian Gray, basic encryption. Subsequent to her conversation with Iorveth, after his fail!private post.]

You may recall that there was a name in my notes that I showed you. Do not speak it out loud and be very careful with whom you share it.

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[Bruce never shares any information he doesn't have to, it's part of his charm.]

I beg your pardon?

...We should talk.

There's a look at a genuine, if non-functioning, time-machine in it for you as well.

Well, you've caught my attention.

When?

This evening?

Of course. I'll make time.

Brilliant. See you then.

[He's at his suite, half his attention on the passage of time, the other half busy reviewing his latest set of notes in Kryptonian. He has a double patrol tonight, picking up the slack of Stephanie's-- (loss) -- absence, but either way he won't leave until roughly midnight.

Until then, well. He's all hers.]

[And there's a knock on the door, not long after sundown.

When he opens the door, he'll find Una there with a black Royal Albert bicycle, which she has just ridden over to his suite. Well, if it can't be used for its preferred purpose, no reason to let it sit completely idle.]

[He raises an eyebrow, and stands back from the door to allow her inside, bicycle and all.]

It looks a lot more... ordinary than I'd imagined.

[No it doesn't. He's used to the mundane holding the mystical. But masks, after all...]

I get that a lot.

[She wheels it in, carefully leaning it against the wall so as not to accidentally smudge or scuff anything.

The only thing to distinguish it from an ordinary bicycle are the three instruments on the handlebars: a speedometer with a little dial on the side, something that looks like a set of concentric brass and copper rings set in a powder-compact, and a brass gadget like an old-fashioned perpetual desk calendar, only instead of having changeable day, date, and year, it's all a series of numbers.]]

My friend Jerry tells me I shouldn't rely on bicycles anymore, but I like them. Much more portable than other options available.

[He studies the bike without seeming to, though his attention seems to be on her rather than it.]

'Other options'? If you're about to say you've a friend with a DeLorean, Ms. Persson...

[Deadpan:]

Actually, it's a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud.

[The thing is, she's not really joking...]

[He arches an eyebrow. Waiting for the punchline.]

[A beat, then she laughs.]

It's actually true. But no, far more common are the sort of bolted-together capsules that you see in science fiction films—bulky and unwieldy and sometimes unreliable as hell. I don't recommend them.

Have you utilized many methods, then?

[Hey he's a connoisseur himself, when it gets right down to it. Darkseid's omega beams are definitely the low point of his time travel career, though.]

A few. This [she taps the seat of the bicycle] is what I'm most comfortable with, in the end. It requires the most skill, perhaps, but I've been doing this for quite a while now.

You know, I still find it a little difficult to believe.

[A wry shake of his head.]

Despite everything. This place, seeing some of what I've seen now. 'Time travel' somehow manages to fall outside the spectrum of 'normal'.

It's not particularly normal for most people, and that's really just as well. I wouldn't even venture to say that I get it right one hundred percent of the time.

[A tiny smirk.] Unfortunately I can't offer a demonstration. Best I can figure, my instruments can't get a lock on the temporal currents they'd normally use to navigate, and while I have a fine track record of rash decisions, I'm not going to try and fly blind, not here.

[Eyebrow.]

What would the potential consequences be?

[Bruce Wayne is sometimes bad at pretending to be an idiot.]

[You get just a bit of a "really?" look for that, Bruce.]

Getting stranded in the far future or past or ending up marooned in some other timeline altogether isn't really my cup of tea.

[He snorts.]

I suppose not.

So there it is. Crippled, but a time-machine nevertheless. [Teasing:] I hope it's not too anticlimactic.

[He makes a faint noise of amusement.]

I wish Harold were here. He's-- [he betrayed me once,] a friend of mine from back home. A genius with engineering components. He'd love this. A genuine time machine.

He might be a little disappointed. Engineering is part of it, but only part. At least some of it depends on the user's innate talent, and there's part of it that at least a few people contend is nothing short of magic. [A slight eye-roll at that.]

Magic.

[He is oh-so-skeptical sounding about that little tidbit.]

Magic is one of those things I still have trouble wrapping my head around. Despite-- [handwave.] everything.

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