[Thursday's voice is light, but there's an undercurrent of barely suppressed anger there.]

So.

That was a flood, I suppose.

What an utter bitch. If I insulted anyone or anything during...all of that, consider this a formal apology. If there's any way I can make it up to you, please tell me.

Anyone in the mood for a drink? I could use one. Or several.

[Private to Howie]

I'm sorry, I really am. If I'd known you--or your doppelgänger--were in trouble, I would have rushed to help. Are you all right? I'm not sure if the injuries transfer after a flood ends.

[Private to Armand]

...I don't know where to start. Sorry, probably. I am really, really sorry. About everything she said to you, and--how are you feeling? How badly did she hurt you?

[It's Thursday! Or, well, it looks like Thursday, in absolutely every respect, from the long brown hair to the battered leather jacket. Except, perhaps, for the languid sneer currently making its way across her face.]

All right. I see how it is. You lot have one minute to tell me where I am and where the fuck my gun is before I get properly angry. Who knows? I might even take a few hostages. I haven't done that in a while. Might be fun.

[OOC: In Thursday's world, she has had "unofficial biographies" written about her adventures. Most of these books portray her as a thoroughly violent and incredibly selfish person who alternately shoots and sleeps her way through the Western canon. These books are far more popular than Thursday would like them to be.

...of course, she complained, and then the next biography published ended up portraying her as a peacenik hippie granola girl. But that is a story for another time.]

Apropos of nothing, and because I've got better things to do than think about barge comas all day--what value do people put on literature in your worlds? And do you have a favourite book?

[Thursday sounds almost relaxed, and perhaps a little bit thoughtful. She's finally starting to settle in.]

This...coma thing, is it? Barge coma. Is that what you call it?

I take it it's a fairly regular thing?

[OOC: And we're back! Sorry about the hiatus--hopefully I'll be able to stay active now that classes are over!]

Well, that was probably the most interesting first day on a job I've ever had. Let's try that again.

As I said, I'm Thursday Next—-the real one, not the written one, in case there's some confusion about that—-and it’s nice to meet you all. I’d appreciate it if someone could show me around now that things have settled down—-I’m still trying to get my bearings to say the least.

Loki, are you still interested in that conversation? And does anyone know where the library is? I might have run past it in the commotion and failed to notice.

[The communicator switches on to a middle-aged woman in a leather jacket. She looks a little dishevelled—her ponytail has a few mousy brown strands loose, and she’s panting slightly, as if she’s just been running.]

Well. This is quite a change from the exploding Hotel Class I was in just a moment ago. Not that I'd call it an improvement at the moment.

The name's Thursday Next--I'm a new Warden. Just got here. But introductions can wait. What's going on, and how can I help?

[Thursday has been monitoring the logs since her arrival a few minutes ago, but she's still confused. That won't stop her from doing her best to deal with Weird Shit. It never has.]