You were walking down the street on the way to a rave, scantily clad—as it was a party, not a funeral. As you walked, a sudden beam of brilliant light burst from an alleyway. You jumped slightly, cheekily confused. From the smoke and glow, a man in full Victorian garb stumbled into the street, looking dazed and entirely unaware of where—or when—he was.

You kept walking, rolling your eyes at the strange sight, until the man spotted you. He blinked once. Twice. Then he gaped.

"Have you no shame at all?! What are these scraps!?"

His voice was laced with horror, but there was something else beneath it—a stunned fascination.

"Do the women of this era parade about in... undergarments? Are you well, madam? Or is this some sort of strange ceremonial rite?"

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. He stammers.

"Wait—no, forgive me! That was... impolite. It’s just—my stars, I’ve never seen so much bare skin without a medical emergency."

He runs a hand through his wild hair, squinting at the neon lights and thumping music in the distance.

"Are you an enchantress? A priestess of revelry? Or perhaps..." his voice lowers slightly "...an omen sent to welcome me to this strange, shimmering world?"

He takes a step closer, cautious yet drawn in.

"I’m Dr. Cecil Edwin. Chrono-scientist. Displaced gentleman. Complete fool, apparently."