I might be taking a little Hiatus with Ghosts just to get this started. I'm not abandoning Ghosts. Oh no, its come to far. I just needed a change of pace for a few days. Enjoy!

Two questions cross your mind in the early hours of the morning. One, why were all your towels missing? Two, why is there a man passed out on your floor with said towels?

"…That wasn't a dream…" You state the obvious to yourself. The man groans softly and turns on his side, coughing a few times.

"What the hell…" He grunts painfully and sits up, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes widen and you step back, was that portal real? Did you really just take some man from an alternate dimension and drag him into your apartment? It makes your head spin just trying to comprehend it all.

The man looks up at you and shakily stands, he stumbles towards you, making you stagger back more.

"What…have you done…He'll come back! It'll just cycle over again!" Blood trickled down from the man's nose, "And what about this time? What if I run into the me of this time?!" He is speaking gibberish to you as he falls back on his knees, more blood flows from his nose.

"S-sir…You're…bleeding…" You take a step forward then feel a new presence in the room.

"Such an occurrence happens to one who crosses into a new time." The female Lutece states as she folds a towel over her arm, "The mind tries to piece everything together."

"But, this is what he wanted. A time with no Comstock. We wanted it too. The other girl held up her end." You can tell the male twin is not referring to you, "You see…"

"There never was a Booker DeWitt in this timeline." Both twins say in unison. This shocks the man as he gags and coughs up blood.

"What's going on?!" You nearly cry, stumbling over to the twins, "What do you mean 'timelines', who is this 'Comstock', this 'Booker DeWitt', what?!"

"I believe that he should tell you, when he's stable enough." The female mentions, hanging another towel, "But, you've played your current role well."

"I couldn't agree more, I do hope you play your other roles just as well." The other Lutece finishes with a smile. The duo stride past you, leaving without a sound.

You turn to the man, whom is trying to regain his composure now. He grabs one of the newly folded towels and wipes his face clean of the blood, staining your towel.

"Sorry." He apologizes curtly, "I should go—"

"Oh-ho…just you wait there." You cut him off, feeling slightly agitated from this sudden event, "Who are you?"

"Name's DeWitt. Booker DeWitt." You look him over. He definitely was not unfortunate looking, in fact you consider him to be rather attractive—besides the few bloodstains on his lapel. His eyes are a harsh shade of hazel-green; his messy brunette hair is pushed over to one side; his skin is tan and weather-worn. He's slightly broader than the average man; you can tell he's done things he regrets from the sadness behind his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Mr. DeWitt, I'm (name) (surname)." You hold out a hand, which he takes and kisses the back of your palm. You smile slightly.

"Now…If you would just excuse me, I have a trip to go on…To Columbia."

Booker's eyes widen and he steps back.

"Columbia?" He repeats.

"Yes. Why, is that a problem?" You face the mirror in your room and begin to brush out your (length) (color) hair.

"No. Not at all. I'll…Just go now. Sorry for intruding." Booker apologizes once more before finding his way out of your apartment.

You button up a simple cotton shirt and tuck it into your calf-length maroon skirt. You lace up your boots, pull a vest and jacket over your shirt, and rest a slightly oversized sun hat on your head. You grab your luggage and stuff the tickets into your purse.

You cautiously make your way down the stairs with your luggage in tow and into the lobby where you see some sort of commotion taking place.

"Tell me how you got in here." The landlord demands, staring down Booker from the front counter. Booker can only stammer, unsure of what to say. You find your neighbor watching from a distance and walk over to her.

"What happened?" You ask, although you're pretty sure what happened.

"This strange man just came down this morning…I've never seen him. He isn't causing trouble, but you know how the landlord is…" She trails off, a worried expression on her face.

Your landlord slams his hands on the counter and demands a reason for the stranger's sudden arrival again.

"He just got in last night!" You pipe up, pacing quickly next to Booker and wrapping an arm around his. You feel his muscles tense up at your touch. The landlord gives you a quizzical look and focuses on you.

"Oh? So why didn't you let him in through the front door?"

Booker looks at you as well, awaiting your excuse.

"It was very late sir, and I didn't wish to disturb anyone. So…I let him…through the…window." Your voice falters a little. You catch the ex-investigator wince as if to mentally face palm.

"Yeah…She did. Sorry about that." He adds after wincing.

"Sure…Well use the door next time."

You lead Booker away from the counter and pull him closer to your face by the collar of his shirt. He jolts back slightly from the motion.

"Look…I can't have you running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off…" You pull the extra ticket from your bag and tuck it in his palm, "So here, you'll come with me…"

"I'm 38…I don't need an escort." He scoffs and looks at the ticket. You just roll your eyes and leave him there while you go to say goodbye to your neighbor.

"He's quite the catch." She says as soon as you're in earshot, you instantly jerk your head back from her comment and exhale sharply. She smiles at your reaction and places her hand on your shoulder. You weakly return the smile and shrug off her hand.

"Don't worry about your room dear, I'll make sure no more men come through your window." She jokes; you just deadpan and turn on your heel back to Booker whom is now staring out to the street.

You place a hand on his back to grab his attention. He turns his head to you and raises a brow.

"We're going now." You pick up your bags and walk out the door, not waiting for him.

You hear him jog to your side to catch up, "I said I didn't need an escort."

A scoff passes your lips, "I never said I was your escort. You just decided to follow me." "But it's not like I mind." You finished mentally. Booker falls silent as if he was pondering something.

It's another beautiful day in the city. Children run across the street in a game of tag. Mothers hang their laundry from building to building. The warm summer air floats around you as the sun conquers the sky with not a cloud in sight. On days like this you can clearly see Columbia floating above the city. The sounds of the passing people hover in the air, filling the city with life. The scent of the bakery putting in a new set of loaves is intoxicating, your stomach growls angrily. Right, with all the chaos you hadn't eaten yet.

Apparently Booker heard this, "You hungry?" he asks. You nod and stare at the bakery across the street, noticing the baker's wife placing out a fresh tray of sweet rolls. Your stomach growls louder at the sight.

The war hero leaves you in the dust as he crosses the street to the sweet-smelling shop; you scurry after him and waltz into the building, the scent of those glorious sweet rolls only intensifying.

"Mornin'~" The baker smiles, "What can I get'cha?"

"A sweet roll please." You order.

"Two actually." Booker interjects, pulling out his wallet. The baker just smiles again and places two sweet rolls in a bag, handing them over the counter.

"Four silver eagles please." He holds out a palm and your new partner places the exact change in the baker's hand. You shoot a glare at Booker and take the bag of rolls from him.

As you exit the shop with Booker you notice two all-too-familiar faces sitting at an outside table, but decide to pay them no mind.

"It's such a lovely day for such a lovely couple." You hear the baker's wife say as you pass her, you notice Booker glance around to see whom she was referring to.

"You have to love when the ignorant state the truth." Rosalind comments just loud enough for you to hear.

"You mean, will be the truth." Robert corrects his sister, equally as loud.

You pick up the pace to get away from everyone.

The dock for Columbia is a literal dock off the edge of a cliff. You watch as people bustle back and forth with their luggage, boarding or leaving their flight. Conductors shout commands to other conductors as the next airship gets ready to take off. The pace picks up as people frantically cram into the cabin. You laugh at how they swarm like angry hornets onto the aircraft.

"Next flight isn't for another hour." Booker declares walking up next to you, "I doubt we'll make this one."

You mutter a "yes" and nod, watching the large balloon drift up and away slowly towards the floating resort. It wasn't long now.

The two of you decide to finally dig into those sweet rolls you purchased from the bakery. Finding a shady tree, you set your luggage aside and sit on the grass. Booker takes a seat across from you and digs out a roll, holding it out to you.

"Y'know…I could have paid." You take the roll and feel that it's still warm. The baked dough is soft and moist; the icing slowly drips onto your fingers as you bring the pastry to your lips, inhaling the sickeningly sweet mixture of cinnamon, honey, and sugar.

"Think of it as thanks for…saving me." He mentions, taking his own roll from the bag and biting down into it.

"Oh…you're welcome." You don't realize how hungry you are until you have a chunk of roll, hanging disgracefully from your teeth after taking such a large bite. Your face flushes in embarrassment as you face the dilemma of whether to pluck the excess dough from your teeth or attempt to stuff it in with the rest. You snap your head to the side and push the dough into your cheek, its warmth filling your mouth as you sigh contently.

Booker snickers and you glare at him, ready to retort, but remember that your mouth is full. He holds out a flask to you, "Here. I think you need this." He laughs. You greedily grab the flask and take a swig, probably as ungracefully as possible. It isn't until it's too late you realized what you just drank. A sudden burn stings your throat as you cough violently.

"W-whiskey?!" You sputter.

"Well what else?" The ex-investigator shrugs and takes a drink.

"Yes, what else would it be?" Robert and Rosalind chime as they stroll up to the tree.

"I'm getting really tired of these two." You growl internally.

"Are you two getting along?" The female twin coos, twirling her parasol.

"I told you she was the one." Her brother says with a smirk.

"Yes yes. And you will tell me a million and three more times." Rosalind huffs as she saunters away.

"Sorry about that. She gets a trifle ruffled when she's wrong." Robert seemed to chuckle, following his sister into the distance.

Booker looked off at the horizon, deep in thought. You finish your roll in a few bites and wipe your fingers on your handkerchief. You could still hear the chatter from the docks. A cheerful sparrow hopped across the healthy green grass, occasionally pecking at the dirt. You watched the small bird chitter gleefully before taking flight.

"So, tell me, how old are you (name)?"

You make a small exclamation in shock and place a hand to your collar bone, "Excuse me?!" you gasp.

"Just a question…" He mutters, looking over at the dock now.

"I'm thirty three…" You grumble.

This catches his attention, "Really? I wouldn't take you for a day over twenty-nine. You look young for your age."

"Thank you." You stand up and brush off your skirt, grabbing your bags, "The Airship should be here soon. Let's go."

Ah yes. Fluff.
I need sleep.
Not much to say here.

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-Ryzi