No small part of him wanted to be wrong. Maybe he still is. Staggering closer he stops only to look around. Take stock of this place and this moment in case this is just another one of Deerington's jokes.

Little by little he gets closer. She sounds right. Smells right. Looks right. Save the uniform. His head cocks thoughtfully. He doesn't recognize that leather suit of armour. At least not her. It reminds him of something else. Hounds. Without the spikes perhaps. But almost equally foreboding.

Nodding at his name, he reaches for her cautiously. His open hand as uncertain of her reaction as what he'll find if he does touch her. "It's me. I'm here. What are you... what happened, Jeannie? Do you know where you are?"