Introductory Temporal Transportology

[bedheaded]

[A man is stuck in the streets of London. He has an amazing I-don't-care-about-my-hair-because-that's-how-cool-I-am hairstyle, $300 dollar Italian jeans, and I dare you to ask the thread count on that shirt, the first few buttons of which have been carelessly left unbuttoned. That's right. The hipsters have arrived. Also, he is holding a blackberry.]

[Clothing aside, he is not acting all that hip. He speaks with very broad hand gestures and a moderately manic expression.]

What the hell is this? When did we go Sherlock Holmes? Abed, are you doing a 'themed episode' [he doesn't need physical air quotes: he can do it with his voice] again? Because if you are, I need to know how the hell you pulled this off so it never happens again! [He stares at his Blackberry in incredulity, and here comes the last straw.] And why isn't my phone getting any signal?

[A choked scream of frustration, and he kicks a nearby crate.] This doesn't make any sense!

[Someone stop him before he finds an axe.]

Comments

[theworst]

[she notices the 'accidental' way he's holding her hand tighter. She puts her free hand on top of his other hand without thinking]

You'll have to cut back on stuff too, buddy. Not that I care. It's not like I need to define myself by what I wear. What are a few leather jackets or vests or kickass boots?

[bedheaded]

[He laughs dismissively.] I don't have any problem cutting back. I can get this look without money. [He just... really likes money. And faucets. And imported clothing.]

[theworst]

Right, of course you can. [she pats his hand, grateful there isn't television or cereal, so she doesn't have to worry about him reverting to the way he acted when he crashed with Abed]

Or, just throwing this out there, you could get a job and get lots of money and buy yourself all the nice things you like with all that important money you make.

[bedheaded]

That's why we're going to find a library. Unless you think libraries are too establishment to be worth going to.

[theworst]

If you trust the establishment books that are put in those places, be my guest. I'm not going to stop you from exercising your freedom to be brainwashed by this fascist monarchy's regime.

[bedheaded]

I don't want to be brainwashed. I want to read their law books so I can once again save from justice people who don't deserve to be saved.

When I put it that way, it sounds like work. [He is no longer warmed-up to the idea.]

[theworst]

Considering they don't have TV here, you can't just watch Law & Order and fake your way through it. They do have courtrooms though. We could go hang out at a few trials if you want and see if you can figure out how to fake it from there.

[she just wants to keep Jeff and not go back to being alone here, even if that means supporting his less than moral occupation]

[bedheaded]

But if I see what they wear, I might not want to do it. [Jeff Winger, mature adult.] We'll work it out later. Apartment first.

[theworst]

Seeing as I'm the bread winner right now, I'll buy you one of those lawyer-y wig things.

[but she drags him along still until they finally reach one of the apartments]

[bedheaded]

[He looks the outside of the building up and down.] There are worse places. And I don't see any rivers nearby, so that's a plus.

[theworst]

Yeah, well, don't count your eggs before they hatch. We still have to see how this place looks once we're inside.

[more to herself than to Jeff] Not that I have room to be picky or anything.

[bedheaded]

We will have room to be picky. As soon as I'm a lawyer again.

[theworst]

Does that mean you are going to get your fake lawyer license thing?

[bedheaded]

[In perfect mimicry of Britta:] Duh-doy. It's not going to be harder in this place than it was in the 21st century.

[theworst]

[she makes a face, but then seems to be satisfied with this] Awesome. Then I get to get you one of those wigs. I wonder if carefully styled bedhead would stand up to one of those things.

[bedheaded]

I'll trendset. They'll throw those wigs right out the window. [He happens to be genuinely horrified at this thought. Maybe he can just do consulting work...]

[theworst]

Yes, because old-timey British people have so much respect for Americans.

[bedheaded]

They'll respect Jeff Winger. How many lawyers who fake their degrees get away with the sweet deal I did? On the courtroom floor, I am king.

[theworst]

All right, King Tut. But just so you know, when you get your first trial, I'm going to be front row. I want to see how well the king reigns in one of those wigs.

[bedheaded]

I don't need my perfect hair to be awesome!

[....Not that he just had an out burst or anything. Now storming up to the advertised apartment.]

[theworst]

Of course you don't!

[and she runs after him, thoroughly amused despite the fact she would be horrified if the tables were reversed. But they're not, so she will just bask in his suffering]

[bedheaded]

Shut up, Britta. [Frown.] Shouldn't there be someone to show us around, or is that not what Victorians do?

[theworst]

How should I know? [she looks at the ad again and then around the hallway] There's probably an office around here. We just have to find it. [and Britta is going to go explore now]

[bedheaded]

Haven't you been living here for a month? Or were you too busy ingesting 'special honey' with your anarchist friends to learn anything useful?

[theworst]

Just because I've been living somewhere a month doesn't mean I learned their entire stupid rental system. [no comment on her activities so far. She continues looking around until she finally does find something that appears to be an office] Aha! Britta one, Winger nada. [and she will just knock on the door and enter said office as the smug victor of a game she just made up in her head called prove to Winger I know what I'm doing]