[ Quinn’s eyes flutter open, and for a moment she thinks she must still be sleeping. She’s sitting on the floor of a hallway she has never seen before. a second later she groans, last thing she remembers was drinking with the Skanks, one of them, probably Ronnie, must have slipped something in it. It must have been strong, since Quinn was barely
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Sorry, sweetheart. 'Fraid you're not in Kansas anymore.
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[ She still doesn't know if she believes this, it's too strange - she knows she's not dreaming, so being high is still a possibility, even if she hadn't done any drugs. ]
Not yet. Are you offering?
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If that's what you want. It sure helped me out when I got thrown here.
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[ Better someone she doesn't know right now, she muses. Less drama. ]
I'm Quinn, by the way.
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[Hahahahahaha no really, they just might do that.]
Name's Dean. You want me to meet you somewhere or come get you?
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[ She glances around the hallway. ]
Would you mind? I have no clue where I am.
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[He squints into the video feed.]
...I think it's the second floor hall. Be there in a sec.
[True to his word, Dean shows up a couple of minutes later. This narration failed to mention that Mister Dean Winchester is currently lacking his right eye and is wearing a fashionable eyepatch in its stead. It happened a few months ago. Don't worry, sweetheart, he'll fill you in.]
Hey. Quinn? [He chuckles a little, hands in his pockets as he strolls up.] Your hair's pinker in real life than it was on my comm unit.
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[ She can't help but grin a little at the comment on her hair. ]
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
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[Or, you know. You could wear it out. He likes hearing it. A lot.]
It ain't bad, my video feed just pales the crap outta everything. S'kinda nice all bubblegum-colored.
[Waggling his eyebrows, Dean turns a little and glances down the side of the hall he came from.]
So where to first, huh? Inside or outside tour?
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[ She glances around the hallway again, before looking back at Dean. ]
Honestly, you pick - I'm still having trouble believing all of this is real.
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I think you're gonna fit in here.
[He frowns a little before deciding where to begin.]
So, uh. Welcome to Wonderland. We got a whole slew of different people from different places and times, so just bear with me, okay? It's like a wormhole's storage unit. I'm from 2007, but we've got people from the 1920s, the 1960s, and even a dude from the 1830s.
[GO FIGURE, RIGHT? He'll just start walking to lead her to the kitchen.]
Where're you from, anyway?
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[ Her eyes widen slightly as he lists the years. 1830? Wonderland really was the right name for it - this was, insane. ]
Lima, Ohio. 2011. There are some people from where I'm from here already, maybe you know them - Puck, Santana? Also Kurt and Rachel and Beiste.
[ She sighs slightly and runs a hand through her hair. ]
I think them all being here, makes everything weirder. They're all from before...
[ She indicates to herself. ]
...the pink and the leather.
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[Maybe he knows them. Ha. That's...that's funny. That's really funny. Kurt was crushing on him for months, and Santana's been trying to get into his pants since he showed up. Rachel is just plain obnoxious.]
You're not...one of those singing-and-dancing ones, are you? They've been tryin' to start a club here, I think.
[Yeesh.]
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I used to be. They asked me to join again.
[ Why she says the last part she has no idea, it just slipped out. She's promised to go to one meeting, but other than that she isn't sure. ]
So, how long have you been here?
[ Subject change ftw. ]
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