Jake was expecting a slap to the face. Though a real one, and not with a thick ass paper rolled up into a bludgeoning weapon.
But he didn't flinch, after all...it's just paper.
When the guards took her away he called up to her as she ascended the stairs. "I was expecting a real slap from a real woman!" Knowing for a fact that the words would get to her.
The Sergeant gave an amused chuckle and then turned to the Russian Ambassador, "вас есть прекрасная дочь" He bent down and picked up the Papers she had dropped and looked them over. He absent mindedly followed the older man, ignoring the remark about the letter opener, reading the paper as if he had just woken up and was eager to learn of the news of England and the world.
Jake Defi set his pack down in a corner of the room before sitting across from the Ambassador, unslung his Rifle and leaned it against the table next to him, the barrel pointing up towards the ceiling. He then helped himself to some cake and water, his eyes never leaving the words on the paper, and turning pages when he needed to.
When he was done with one paper he moved onto the next, but his eyes were no longer on the words. His fingers no longer caressed the sides of the pages.
His eyes were looking over each printed word, how some bled down and others darker than some.
Mistakes and misprints, misspellings and grammar problems made that "we're not in Kansas anymore" feeling grow larger and larger.
His fingers felt and rubbed at the paper. This wasn't normal newspaper, it was thicker, much thicker than what he was used to.
And the grainy feeling of the paper itself felt foreign to him.
The Sergeant took another piece of Cake and washed it down with a whole glass of water before neatly folding up the newspaper and stacking them by date, the most recent on top. He brought his hands together in front of him, leaned on forward on his elbows and gave the Russian Ambassador a nice long stare, trying to read through the former Spy to no avail.
He sighed and averted his eyes away first, looking around the Sun Room. "Fine...So it seems I'm not in Kansas anymore." He gave a short pause then added, "It's a saying from...my time. Um..." Jake gave another short pause. Yes he was an orphan. No he did not have anyone waiting for him at home. So what made him feel so sick? So worried? So...afraid of the world of the now he found himself in?
England was a new place to him, even in the year 2012.
Even more so now that it's the 1800s.
That unfamiliar feeling.
The same feeling he felt when enlisting.
The same feeling he felt on his first tour in Iraq, clearing a small hut by himself with more rooms than expected.
That feeling of coming to the last room that was so dark it seemed like a portal to darkness.
That feeling of a lingering danger just past the door.
The "fuck it" attitude he had when he swallowed his fears and stepped into the doorway, the room lighting up with AK47 muzzle flashes combined with the muzzle flashes from his M16A4, the darkness of the room, the feel of his own blood on his chest and shirt.
That same feeling returning as he refused to walk towards the light.
Jake cleared his throat as he felt his mind wander. "Where to start?"