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[mounties]

[She's new, obviously, and looking a little distressed as she tries to figure out the communicator well enough to make some use of it. Sitting down by the shipyard, her blonde hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, trying to keep it from getting in her face as she tries to figure out what's going on here.]

Excuse me... [A good start, right? Polite.] I'm a recent arrival to this place and would appreciate any information I could be given on it. It's not quite right for anywhere I know of home.

[It's short, but effective, she hopes. Canada then more or less repeats herself in French, then German and Russian and Japanese, the first languages that come to mind for good international communications.

But just to be safe, she tries text, too:]

Information and/or assistance in returning home would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Comments

[mounties]

[That makes her falter a moment, as much as she tries not to show it.]

I will.

Because as far as I'm concerned, if you're England, you're family, no matter what you think of us, or even of just me.

[unionjackass]

I did attempt to say that at the beginning of this conversation, you know. [--relax, Arthur.]

... [England glances off to the side and lowers his voice. He fidgets a bit while speaking, and he speaks slowly, the words making it difficult for him to form them aloud.] I don't--I don't think ill of you. O-or--her.

When she's civil, anyway.

[mounties]

She's probably just distressed because she's stuck here.

Umm... And I'm sorry for being rude to you. That was uncalled for. [Distress is also a likely factor here, to be honest, along with confusion.]

[unionjackass]

That's no excuse for being hideously rude.

[h u f f.] I suppose raising my voice was unnecessary as well.

May I have your name, then? Mine's Arthur--Arthur Kirkland.

[mounties]

Margaret Williams. It's... nice to meet you. [Is it really, Canada? Are you sure it's nice? You don't sound sure.]

Hopefully we can work around our unfortunate start.

[unionjackass]

[just giving her a look. The kind he'd give Matt. The kind of look that, if this was America, would be England calling Alfred a fucking sod.

This is more of a stern "I know what you're up to" sort of expression.]

I certainly hope so. What would you like to be called, then?

[mounties]

I really don't mind responding to whatever you'd like to call me, although I'd prefer if it wasn't America.

[...]

Unless it's Peggy. Mum's tried that one before and I have to say it's the one thing I've been called that I dislike.