[Diner? Normal enough. At this hour? Eh, maybe in a crisis. Clocks look fuzzy, can’t remember much between seeing the place and being seated? Insomnia’s a bitch, ain’t it. Can’t even read the damn menu....]

[Aubrey does not remember how she got here, only that she is here; that alone is sparking the strangest deja vu. She was watching the weirdly-harried hostess (is she harried? she’s awfully… efficient), wondering idly if they’re vigilant about ID checks here, and then in came another lost soul. Guided to Aubrey’s table, no less.]

[The poor guy sounds frazzled, and Aubrey shoots him a bemused look for the apology. Some cape he’s got there. And she might question why he’s so sure about sitting here, but she’s compelled not to and instead offers a flippant handwave.]

You know what? Why not. [Hell, this is the most exciting thing to happen since the party. She’ll offer him a handshake.] This is hell. I’m Aubrey.