[She’s wearing boots, toes against the ground, eyes shut. Sometimes it’s easier to see that way. People talking, and talking, and not saying anything because it’s too far away to hear. She just walks for a few minutes, arms outstretched, but not bumping into anything. Maybe she’s acclimating, maybe it’s just a game. She’s murmuring numbers to herself, calculating the steps or just spitting out equations, who knows? It’s hard to tell from the outside.

And then her eyes snap open and she glances at the stars, with just a touch of annoyance.] That’s wrong. The stars aren’t in sequence, we’ll have to redecorate. Calculate the masses and rearrange them into the proper orbits. [Her tone gets downright accusing.] You can’t break the sky.

[She spins a little, getting the full view of the Plane. And River Disapproves. She lets her hand graze a chair.] You have to consider the structure as a whole. Pieces and shards can’t be shaken back into the whole; constructing arguments won’t put them together again.

[And, finally, she stares down at the ground and her boots, a little blankly.] I followed where they took me. Here isn’t anywhere, it shouldn’t work like that. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not following the natural order.

[Oliver is sitting out in the open on the Plane, near the collection of stars where he and Tamaki made snowmen. he has a small black datapad, similar in appearance to the iPod touch from just after his home era, in his hand. it is displaying a photo of a young woman, with wavy, longish blond hair and bright brown eyes. she is smiling and laughing, blushing faintly in embarrassment, with one hand just coming up to block her face from the camera.]

[Oliver smiles sadly at the picture for a few moments. then he swallows hard, reaching out to run a hand along the screen as though to touch the woman in the photo. the datapad responds by scrolling to the next picture, which is of the same woman, except she's turned her head and her hair is falling across her face now. she has her hands up to block even more of her face, but she's still laughing. Oliver scrolls through a few more photos of the same girl, the last of which is of the two of them, each with an arm around the other. it is taken at an awkward angle, and the Oliver in the photo clearly has his arm out, showing that he was holding the datapad to take the photo himself. the Oliver in the photo is also wearing the same clothing that he's wearing now--a green T-shirt with a logo for the "Desert Sand Brigade" and trousers that look like oddly-smooth jeans, betraying their futuristic, 27th century origins. they contrast with the girl's clothing--a purple, V-neck blouse over a white undershirt and jean trousers from the 21st century.]

[Oliver sighs, finally shifting his gaze from the datapad to a nearby clump of stars. his expression turns thoughtful, and he reaches out with his free hand to grab one of the stars, but it turns to dust in his hand. he speaks softly then, maybe just to himself or maybe half to the stars and whoever created them] Only once, huh? But...was it even real?