"Yep, that's about it. Yet, people still think I know them or something." Bernard did appreciate the irony of it at some level, as with literary characters abounding across the place, reality and fiction were a bit out of sorts.

"Don't think we've got anyone Scottish or Welsh, that's why?" He took a long drink from his beer, if only to extend his patience, as if she'd caught him on any normal day, he'd have had fun with sarcasm and gone back to sleep, "Well, I've got a stupid sounding voice. It's different to hers," he pointed at Jenny, "Or uh..." American...any American nearby, AH! That kid over by the limbo, "His. Virgil, I think. His'll probably sound stupid, hers sounds..." he trailed off and gave her a glance, "alright, and mine can make women pass out." Unfortunately, the rest of him couldn't keep up. Not that girl-of-the-many-questions needed to know.

((trust me. Bernard will. You're lucky he has alcohol and is a tad more patient. I'm cool with it.))