Present Meets Past tunnelled

[morethan084]

[The whole team had been warned about the dangers of 084s, and the intake of them. Skye's seen how the team has to carefully catalog them and yet, all of that went out the window when she was face to face with one by herself and no one around to scold her. To be fair, there had been some testing done on it already by Fitz-Simmons to see if they could figure out its purpose. Nothing conclusive had come up, which left Skye feeling somewhat safe to touch it.

It was like waking up from a dream abruptly.

One moment, Skye was in the lab, and the next she was outside standing on dirt surrounded by loud noises. Hand falling to her side, as she was no longer touching anything other than air, Skye looks around in utter confusion. Everyone around her is dressed very much different to what she was wearing. It was like she ended up in one of those period dramas Simmons had tried to get her into.

Stepping back when the door she was standing in front of opened, Skye met the man's eyes with a mix of horror and confusion as he steps around her, eyeing her up and down as if trying to make sense of her outfit before walking off. At a loss of what to do now, Skye decides to go into where the man had just come out of. The smell of booze was overwhelming, and it was hard not to notice any chatter abruptly die down as she entered the pub. Skye had grown up feeling out of place, but this had to be the most out of place she's ever felt in her life. Even the bartender was staring at her.

Ward had never taught her protocol for something like this but her first thought was to call Coulson. Except when she reaches into her back pocket for her phone its empty. Okay. Now she's really starting to panic and without really thinking about it she walks over to the bartender to ask if she could use his phone.]

Comments

[tunnelled]

[The Garrison still hasn't returned to its usual volume when Tommy walks in. It doesn't take more than a few seconds to see the trouble. There's a woman at the bar talking to Harry, wearing something like riding boots and vivid too-short dress. Most of the men in the pub are busy staring at the woman's legs.

The barman has been drying the same spot on the same glass since the second Skye walked up to him. He doesn't want to be the one to let her use the phone in case there's some reason she shouldn't. 'I dunno, miss,' is the only answer he makes, looking her up and down.

Next to Skye, a couple of patrons pick up their pints and clear out of the way for Tommy to take their place. Harry treats this arrival with a mixture of relief and apprehension, explaining the situation around Skye as if she can't do that for herself.

'Mr. Shelby. This young lady would like to use the telephone.'

Tommy shrugs permissively.]

Why not?

[He can't see the harm in it, or he can, he's just not worried. She's a beautiful girl and he can't think of many happy reasons she could be such a rough place in her state of dress.]

Come on. It's in the back.

[It's not a smart idea to go into back rooms with strange men, but since he's decided that's what's going to happen, no one else in the pub is going to make a competing offer. He nods towards a door on the far wall, then walks without waiting to see that she'll follow him. The door's already ajar. From the right angle, there is a candlestick telephone visible on the desk. They wouldn't know what else she could've possibly had in mind when she asked.]

[morethan084]

[This has to be a dream, right? A really weird dream. She's seen some pretty crazy things, but time travel? Not to mention she's very clearly not in America. She notices the men around her clear out of the way, and at first she assumes it's because of her, for whatever reason, until the barman looks up and only acknowledges the man that had come up next to her.]

Thank you.

[It's directed more towards 'Mr. Shelby' than it is the barman, who went back to working on the glass he had been drying as soon as he broke eye contact with the other man. She could only assume this was his bar, what the way people clear off and make sure he has space to walk. Following behind him, Skye makes eye contact with a few of the men, some of which look away while others continue to eye her up and down.

Stepping into the room, which is stale with the smell of cigarettes and dust, Skye spots the very old looking phone on the desk. As if the clothes hadn't been weird enough, now this?]

I've never used one of these before.

[She's quickly realizing she doesn't have Coulson's number memorized, or any of the teams numbers actually. Still, she picks up the phone and is about to dial her phone, when an operator's voice comes on the line asking for the number she'd like to connect to. Looking up at Mr. Shelby again, the confusion was written all over her face, she then starts to list off her number, but she only gets to the end of the area code before the woman starts to connect her. Hanging up before it could connect, the earpiece falls back off of it and she fumbles to place it back on properly.]

No answer.

[More like her number literally doesn't exist.]

I, uh, had a rough night last night. Not exactly sure where I woke up this morning.

[Please tell her where she is.]

[tunnelled]

[The door is closed behind them for a semblance of privacy. It may not mean much, since Tommy can't leave the young woman alone to make the call. He steps to one side, never quite leaning against the wall, and watches while she struggles with the telephone. He pares down his reaction to a mild lift of his brows. He can believe that she's never used a phone before, though she certainly picked an interesting place to start.]

Some people haven't.

[The simplest explanation is usually correct, and the simplest explanation is that she's inexperienced with technology. If only he knew.]

You can try again later.

[She's welcome to give the phone another go if she has any better ideas for it. Just because he's lingering in the room expectantly, doesn't mean she only gets one chance. He doesn't recognise the area code she gave. He was counting on that for a clue. He's about to make a contribution to the stale cigarette smell in the room, reaching into his coat pocket for a case and lighter. It's no wonder how the smoke got into the furniture and wallpaper.

She doesn't know where she is. Coupled with her mention of a rough night, he's forming a theory about her—she might find his theory unflattering. It's not such a bad thing in his mind as it might sound to her. As for where they are, that is bad as it sounds.]

Small Heath, Birmingham.

[There isn't much to attract tourists and he wouldn't say it's a particularly safe place for a working woman alone. He gestures at her with the now-lit end of his cigarette before placing it between his lips.]

You're American.

[She'll hear how that's not a question. He isn't asking, but the observation seems to want to be answered, almost like an accusation.]

[morethan084]

[Most people haven't used this kind of phone in centuries. Skye almost says that out loud, but it would probably be a bad idea to have said that when he could hear it. Brows knitting together in worry when he offers for her to try using the phone again later, Skye racks her brain trying to figure out what to do next. She can't just stay here in whatever year it is.]

Thanks.

[Straightening up, Skye's eyes roam over him briefly before she looks around the room. It's hard not to notice the way he hovers, coupled with the fact that this seemed like he might be the boss of this place. She only assumes that because of the way the bartender seemed worried with asking Skye's question for her.

Birmingham?

Oh shit. This is where they found the 084 today. Or many many years from now. She's so consumed by her thoughts that it takes her a moment to realize he had said something else to her.]

Yeah.

[She sounds distracted still until she speaks up again, snapping out of her thoughts.]

Is that okay?

[She poses it as a question, but she doesn't really care. Sorry dude, she's just trying to get home.]

[tunnelled]

There are worse things.

[He gets the sense she's not very invested in his answer, maybe because of her rough night. If she's going to tell someone about it, he's sure it won't be him. Women prefer to talk to other women. Men prefer not to talk. If she really had that bad of a time, someone else might suggest calling the police. It's never a popular option around here. He won't suggest it himself. Dressed like she is, the police won't take her seriously. In that respect he's not sure there'd be much difference between walking into a pub and walking into a police station.

American isn't such a bad thing to be, in the scheme of things. They're allies. They're different, but not very foreign. He remembers playing cards with some Americans in the back of a cattle truck. He has some irons in the fire where her country's concerned. Export interests. Business isn't the first thing on his mind just now. She is, like it or not. He hasn't worked out if she's trouble, or just lost. It's harder to make a clear assessment while she's showing that much leg. He's too self-aware to stare, but she might catch him studying her with more than one kind of curiosity.]

I think you'll need to use more than just the phone. For one, you might like to change out of your party dress.

[If that's what her outfit is supposed to be. He took his best guess on that. And while they're on the subject of sharing and using and borrowing, he extends his cigarette case to her in offer. If she takes one, he'll light it for her. It might help settle her nerves or clear her head. He does have some manners, they're just late to arrive. He's worse when he's not sure about a woman, and lately, well.]

[morethan084]

[He isn't the only one she's noticed looking at her like that since arriving in this place, but from what she can gather already, the way she's dressed isn't exactly normal. She failed history, but judging by the way everyone is dressed and the phone, it had to be the early 1900s. Skye has thought about time traveling before, mostly after Jemma had forced her to watch Doctor Who. The idea of it had sounded cool, but now that she's here? Yeah, she's panicking a little bit. Mostly because of the lack of contact with the team.

Skye knew how to improvise, but her lack of knowledge of this time period does make it harder to make up a believable story. Brows knitting together when he suggests she get changed out of her 'party dress', Skye looks down at what she's wearing before letting out a fake, but hopefully believable, dismissive laugh.]

If I knew how bad last night was going to be, I would've packed a change of clothes.

[Which were probably just as equally unusual for this place. When he offers her a cigarette, Skye decides it's better just to take it. At least judging by the old movies, cigarettes were seen in pretty much everyone's hands. And it's not like she hasn't smoked before, but if anything she was more of a social smoker than anything else.]

Thanks.

[Skye was never one for lack of conversation, and especially with how on edge she was right now, well, he might find she has a hard time not talking.]

Is this your office?

[tunnelled]

[Tommy takes a step closer to light her cigarette, and the gesture itself is almost reflexive. The strike of a match is a deeply engrained habit. He'd probably still smoke if he knew it was bad for him, but as a point of interest, he doesn't know. He hasn't done a very good job of accepting her gratitude. He just nods. He isn't uncomfortable being thanked, it just doesn't happen often. He doesn't do many things that people want to thank him for.

There's an open ledger and some documents on the desk. She might be able to find the date on one of them. The answer to the question she can't ask is that she's in 1920. The only trouble with searching the desk for answers is that Tommy won't know what she's looking for, and he might assume the worst. He's a man with enemies.

He can see why she'd think it's his office. He's comfortable in it, entitled even. Standing around with a proprietary attitude. There's some information accessible here that he'd consider private family business, but no, it isn't his office. He pauses to consider how best to answer and clears his throat before he does.]

It's our pub.

[He won't explain who else it belongs to without being prompted. As a rule, things aren't 'his' when he could call them 'ours'. If it's worth having, it's worth sharing with his family. He didn't take the pub over just for his own pleasure.]

My office is in a betting shop.

[In modern terms, he's cultivating a diverse business portfolio.]

The girls working there could give you a lend of some clothes. You'll have another bad night if you go out like this. Boys around here can be fucking animals.

[He's not necessarily above or any better than that himself. They might each have a different concept of a 'bad night' in mind. He sounds flippant too, but he what he's picturing is not a laughing matter.]

[morethan084]

[Taking a drag of the cigarette, Skye's eyebrow raises when he mentions that his office is in a betting shop.]

So you own a pub and a betting shop? Impressive.

[No wonder he looks so well groomed compared to most of the guys out there drinking. Then again, they all look like they're dressed somewhere to go compared to how men dress where she's from. Clearing her through in an attempt to cover a cough from inhaling too much smoke, Skye takes another look around the room trying to piece things together. This definitely wasn't the site that they had found the 084 at, but then again it had been years later. So far all she knew, it could be here in somewhere. Her eyes land briefly on a newspaper and she catches the year.

Shit this really was happening. Clearing her throat again, Skye uses the ashtray on the desk to tap off the access before her eyes are back on him. There he goes again hinting that her attire is inappropriate, and while she appreciates his cause of concern, Skye isn't quite there yet with believing that she couldn't handle herself.]

Some things don't change I guess.

[Probably shouldn't have said that, but she quickly adds on:]

They're the same in America. Uh, no offense.

[When she thinks 1920s she thinks of flapper dresses, but other than that she hasn't seen enough of the women's attire to know if she would even want to change into what they have. All she can picture is a lot of layers and uncomfortable bras. Possibly even corsets if she's unlucky enough.]

I think I'll be okay, but thanks. I don't plan on staying here long.

[Unless she can't find the 084. Where the hell does she even start? Especially with this guy up her ass. Realizing she doesn't even know his name, Skye holds her hand out.]

Sorry. My head was someplace else. I'm Skye.

[tunnelled]

[She's not much of a smoker. He silently adds that to the short list of what he knows about her. He tries not to frown too deeply when she says it's impressive, having those two things. There's more, and anyway, he's not very impressed with it. There was a time he thought it would be enough for them. Enough money and enough status to keep the people he cares about comfortable and out of danger, but he knows better by now. There's always another fucking thing. On the bright side, at least he looks like a man who has an office. She likely doesn't want customers from around here, but since he's 'impressive' and all, he wonders if she'd make an exception for him.]

Skye. You chose that yourself?

[It's uncommon. It isn't one of those good Catholic names used in endless rotation. He doesn't think for second that it's her real name. Giving a false name wouldn't be unusual for a woman in her line of work he thinks she's in. Lizzie would've given a false name too, if she could get away with it. If she'd moved house from all the neighbours who'd known her for most of her life. Skye hasn't said anything to contradict his theory about her. She's unknowingly leaning into it by refusing to change clothes and taking her chances with all the attention she'll get from men.

It's a different protocol, shaking hands with men and with women. He clasps Skye's hand and gives it one gentle downward tug.]

Thomas.

[He would get up her arse in a literal sense, if she's offering, but in the figurative sense he's not actually planning to follow her around once she's left the Garrison. He feels some sense of civic responsibility for what happens to lost women around here. Some, not a lot. If she's that determined to refuse help, he might let her—not without showing interest in the specifics, though. There's an unspoken, implied 'I don't know how things work where you're from,' underpinning the question.]

How do you plan to leave? Considering you barely know where you are. Cabs don't come this far.

[And when the cabs do pass through, they don't slow down to pick up passengers. If she walks, aside from being unsafe, it'd be cold. He'd have to send her off with his coat if it came to that. He'd say it's fairly obvious her head's someplace else. He'd hope she'd normally be more practical.]

[morethan084]

[Skye is thrown when he asks if she chose her own name. How did he know that considering he didn't know anything, much less her past in the orphanage. The way he 'shakes' her hand is also weird, but she doesn't let it show other than pulling her hand back as soon as he lets go. Maybe what she did had been weird. Did men and women not shake hands in the 1920s? Was that not a thing? God, Ward would be laying into her right now, but she would love to see him do any better if he ended up in some random time period.

He would look cute in these suits.]

Hey.

[And because it's still bugging her that he knew that she picked her name, she has to ask.]

How did you know I picked my name?

[As much as she didn't want to admit that he has a point, well, he does have one. She's so in over her head, and if she ever got back to present day, she would likely be kicked out. If not by Coulson, then by Hand or someone else higher up. Hell, maybe it would be Fury who would kick her out. Whether she likes it or not, there's a chance she might need help and it seems like Thomas knows this place pretty well.]

Bus?

[Were buses even a thing that existed yet? She hopes they do, otherwise she'd have to explain that away too.

It may have taken her a second too long to realize, but Skye finally puts together why he thinks her name is made up. The way not only the others had been looking at her, but also the way Thomas subtly kept looking her over. That combined with his calling her dress a 'party dress', and offering her different clothes multiple times...]

Sorry, um, do you think I'm a prostitute?

[Everything else that she has to deal with right now, and she's decided to be hung up on this for a moment.]

[tunnelled]

[As it is now, the public transport system doesn't resemble what she's imagining. Still, a bus isn't an unfamiliar word or concept. He's tempted to wish her luck with it. He wouldn't know the schedule himself. Catching a bus is another thing not made easier by her current state of dress. There are more miles of canal in Birmingham than in Venice, meaning there are places it's easy to reach on a boat, but then, Tommy's biased. It's in his blood.

Everyone's a whore. They just sell different parts of themselves. That's his opinion, but it's not his answer. He cants his head questioningly. If it's a fact, he can't see how she has a right to be offended. And he did really think it was a fact, until now. He's more than a little surprised by her incredulous tone. She should know what she looks like and how it sounds when she admits to having rough nights. A lady wouldn't talk about her escapades, even if she did have them.]

Aren't you?

[He doesn't answer a lot of questions. He often ignores them unless he can see a reason to answer. He glances away and back. It's only belatedly that he tells her how he knew about her name, and only because the answer supports the assumption he made.]

I've never met a Skye. Foreign girls pick names their customers can remember. Especially the Chinese.

[He can't say with any certainty that's what she is, but she's something besides American. Skye shouldn't hold her breath waiting on an apology, even if he's completely wrong.]

[morethan084]

No.

[It's hard for her to put things into the perspective of the time, especially since she just came from the future where women wear pants and have their own jobs. This dress isn't at all scandalous by 21st century standards.]

Well just because you've never met one doesn't make me a prostitute, and where I'm from this is how women dress.

[She's getting heated and she really shouldn't, not when there's more at stake than just her dignity. Remembering she still has a lit cigarette in her hand, Skye turns so she can put it out and leaves what's left of the cigarette in the ashtray.]

Maybe you should learn not to make assumptions based on someone's appearance before you even get to know them.

[Straightening up, Skye does try to push her skirt further down, but it won't budge very much. She really doesn't know what to do right now, but she doesn't want to stay in this room here where he could try something. Not that going back out into the pub was a much better option, but at this point, she could use a drink. Which is exactly what she sets off to do.]