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[ While he's known for being pretty quick to assess a situation and pick up on what's going on, there hasn't hardly been time for that before Robin John Blake is addressing the network, a rather uneasy expression wrinkling his forehead, his whole being scrunched up while he tries to get used to using a video function that is nowhere near standard in his time and place. ]

Uh... Know this is gonna sound kinda weird, but— [ Believe it or not, John Blake, there isn't much you could say that the denizen of Wonderland would consider weird, but you go ahead and give it a try, buddy. ] Well... don't s'pose I'm dreamin', am I?

[ It feels like a good guess because he doesn't remember traveling, and he certainly doesn't remember leaving home, and since the last thing he'd done was attend a funeral, it could be a strange coincidence, a fabrication of his mind that's now semi-lucid, sitting here telling him how what he sees and feels can't be what's actually happening. People don't just appear in storybooks (and even if he did, it wouldn't be this celebrated tale). ]

Barrin' that, think I might be dead... [ It's mumbled in an off-hand way, as if maybe he's already considered it, but decided not to lead with that theory. Audible to the rest, even if he's quick to move on from saying it. ] But on the off chance I'm not either of those things, think someone could help me out figurin' what's goin' on here?

[ He likes to think a uniform would have added something to this request, but having just given up his badge for good, all he can do is address everyone as a regular guy — definitely not his first choice, since it usually does him no favors.

He looks like he's done, about to end the transmission, when something else occurs to him. ] —in person, if possible. Not really— Not really much of a fan of these things, not if I can help it.

[ He can't, not here, but he'll at least be content to try for a while. With luck, it won't even matter when he wakes up from all of this... ]

Be— [ A gesture over his shoulder. ] Gonna be outside for a while — out front. So... yeah.

[[ OOC: Video, audio, or action perfectly okay, just note. Will also match style. For starters, send a PM to this account or hit me up @ blakeroo on plurk. :) ]]

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[ The world has not been particularly kind to Sam lately. The younger Winchester, who had found a kind of level calm and even acceptance during their space trip, has begun again the hollow sort of plummet into 'is it all worth it?' With the people he cares about disappearing every day, it's hard to tell what the answer to that question is.

Except, today... there's actually something good.

Blake - John Blake. One of his oldest Wonderland friends, gone, seemingly for good. ... Except, that's him over the feed, and Sam knows there's no way he'll remember Sam himself, or anything about Wonderland, and it's all obvious from the way he addresses the network -

But he still responds, trying to look no more pleased than a normal person, but perhaps coming off as a little too relieved, for his speaking to a 'stranger.' ]

Hey, man. I can help.

[ He didn't say his name, right? Better not use it. ]

You said you're out front? Mind if I join you?

[ Nothing too strange about that, he thinks. There's no sense of familiarity save for the smile that seems a touch too warm for polite company. But really, what does he know about that? Polite company isn't exactly his forte. ]

No, that's fine...

[ He did suggest it, didn't he? But Blake doesn't say what he wants to say, thinking it better to be gracious that someone is even bothering to help him. ]

Thanks.

[ So warm, so talkative. This guy is definitely going for the most amicable arrival to date. He actually hangs up instead of staying on the line, waiting around outside the entranceway, warily fidgeting at his clothes - funeral attire, nicer than usual - the communicator, whatever he can get his hands on.

He can't wait to hear what kind of cockamamie this guy's going to come up with... ]

[ Before long, the tall drink of water that is Sam heads out the front doors.

Blake. It's really him, though obviously without his memories.

Distantly, he wonders if Crowley's come back, too. ]

Sam Winchester. [ He announces, extending a hand to shake. ] Welcome to Wonderland.

Why's that sound like a death sentence?

[ He laughs a little — it's thin, lifeless, lacking humor but not lacking in exasperation. Something about the approach doesn't give much of a soft landing and John's understandably jarred. He's never even left Gotham and now all of a sudden he's somewhere unexplained, meeting new people, opening up lines of communication.

But then again, he'd asked for this, hadn't he? Broadcasting himself was the first step and if he's at all uncomfortable about it now, he really only has himself to blame. He could have just as easily kept his mouth shut.

Uncertainly, he shakes that offered hand, looking up at the rather hulking individual casting shadows on his short-ass self. ]

Nice to meet you, Sam. Name's Blake. John Blake.

Nah, don't worry about it. I've been here for years, and I'm still - uh, kicking.

[ More or less. ]

Same here. [ The introduction is a formality, on Sam's side, and he covertly takes in the other man's appearance again. How did his memories from home match up? ... Can Sam himself remember what Blake had told him about his time in Gotham, about what had happened? ]

So, where'd you come from?

[ Blake hadn't been much for sharing when he'd first come to Wonderland, and while that had changed a bit over time, his present self is decidedly less interested in opening up outside the bounds of necessity. He hasn't yet had the same benefit of the Princess Diaries style training he'd gotten the last time around: no lessons in public relations, no sparring sessions with Bruce, no time to understand he's not alone. ]

Gotham City, New York...

[ He eyes Sam, eyebrows knitting together in some sense of concern. ]

You've been here for years? As in a number of years greater'n one? Why?

[ Yet to understand the ins and outs of Wonderland, John is still somehow under the impression people here have a choice. ]

Got it. [ Same place, same Blake, but different. ] And - yeah. Four years now.

[ With occasional trips back home in between. ]

"Why?" [ Sam chuckles, surprised, somehow, by the question. ] Because... well, I dunno. We don't have a lot of info on why some people are here for years and some are gone in a month. It's part of Wonderland's, uh... mystique.

[ To put it kindly. ]

Well, not a lotta info's at least better'n no info, but—

[ Upwards of four years and not enough details to be able to answer John's simple question? He shouldn't make any snap judgements, particularly without obtaining what little information is available, but he's got to wonder if people are really trying. Mystique sounds a little too profound, a little too dangerous. ]

We're here, aren't we? This place doesn't exist in a void, far as I can tell. You're sayin' no one's managed to produce any kinda tangible swaths of data 'bout a place full of people — long-term, what? Prisoners?

Not prisoners. At least, I don't think so. [ Though, everyone seems to have their own story on what Wonderland is and how it works. ] It seems more like we've been drawn in by a force: the Core. And... there doesn't seem to be anyone who controls who comes and goes, and when.

[ If that were the case, they'd probably have less problems. ]

It's unpredictable as it gets, basically. You'll see sooner or later.

[ John huffs, and while he's not trying to be mean, he feels like there's an edge to his words, like he's got an unchecked attitude that would never fly if the situations were reversed.

Rubbing his hands down his face, he lets out a groan and then lets his hands drop back to his side. ]

Guess I can already see that this... —this really sucks. But I gotta ask, even if I don't wanna know the answer: Does it get worse?

It's - a lot of the same, honestly.

[ Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Sometimes very good, sometimes very bad. ]

People come and go. You might be back home tomorrow and you'd never remember this place.

[ Ha. Ha, ha. ]

We're all in the same boat, though. You don't have to deal with this crap by yourself.

Guess that's the reason for the welcoming committee? You do this for everyone?

[ And if you do, Sam, are they always as exhausted as Blake by this whole ordeal? At the end of this day he's fairly certain he either sleep for a couple days or not sleep at all for a week. Either way, he's not looking forward to his first night in Wonderland or the following days. ]

Couldn't be a one-man job. [ He chuckles, cracking his neck. ] We get a lot of people through here, like I said. There's a pamphlet you can get for when you just get here, though. That should help more than I have.

[ He hasn't helped much. This is all still pretty weird. ]

No offense, but if a pamphlet's gonna do a better job, then why help out at all?

[ Typical John, asking all the hard-edged questions. He's not nearly as soft as before, not nearly as politic about his ways. And that's not the difference between cop training and bat training, let's be realistic here, but instead the difference between taking care of a city and taking care of people.

The last time around he'd had months of social training from Bruce and from sitting on the board of the Martha and Thomas Wayne Foundation. This time around, he's just a guy that's gotten too far in over his head. ]

Guilty conscience?

[ A guess — cop's intuition. ]

Because of the benefit of a personal touch? I dunno.

[ Guilty? Well, in a way. Sam is guilty about a lot of things, though few of them are actually his fault. Yeah, he'd been glad to see Blake again, but he helps out with a lot of the new arrivals.

Why? Hard to say. ]

I don't think it's that. [ He chuckles weakly. ] But I don't have a good substitute to offer in place of it.

Guess we can't all know what we're feelin' one hundred percent of the time. At least I know I'm in good comp'ny now.

[ John shrugs. He doesn't mind giving anyone a pass, particularly on this day when everyone's giving him a pass. ]

Don't mind sayin', I'm kinda hopin' I'll wake up an' find I've been in some kinda... coma dream. Gimme that sitcom experience over somethin' like this weird reality any day.

You might, but even if you wake up from this, you won't remember it. [ shrug ] Makes appreciating being home kind of moot.

[ As compared with being in Wonderland, anyway. ]

I've pretty much come to believe it's better not thinking about it too much. It gets kind of existential.

Well, if I figure out how to not think too much, I'll let you know how it goes. Hasn't worked great for me up to this point...

[ He grumbles and doesn't feel bad about it. Considering all that's just happened, he feels justified in being a little grumpy over these circumstances. ]

[ Sam chuckles sympathetically. ]

I get that. [ beat ] At least there're a lot of distractions here to try and help with that.

[ Not that they always work... ]

Guess that's a bright side.

[ Honestly, he's not thoroughly convinced. But John's at least gotten a chance for his brain to catch up a little bit. ]

Well, thanks, anyway, Sam. Shouldn't prob'ly keep you any longer, but this was— it was nice of you. To come out an' see me like this.

No problem. [ It's the least he can do, right? ] If you ever need anything, you've got my number.

[ So to speak. Also literally, since... the network. ]

... It was nice meeting you, John.

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File Z5287452 - No Context

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