Abe sat soaking up sun-rays as he sucked a Sweet Stick on Strawberry Lawn, a non-descript patch strewn with Sweet Stands amongst the grassy metropolis of the park. The pink of the grass and creme of the sky grew more distinct as Abe sucked the Stick, growing ever less aware of the couple of thousand people scattered intermittently across the huge expanse of Strawberry Lawn.
"Mind if I join you friend?" said a disembodied voice.
Abe looked up in reverence at the curls and goatee that accompanied the voice - a pale skinny guy clutching a Sweet Stick that had been sucked down into a nub.
"Sit," Abe said after several dozen awkward seconds, he trying to comprehend the visitor, the visitor beyond all comprehension.
Half-clumsily and half-robotically, the visitor coiled his body and crumbled into a seated position on the grass. He gave Abe his hand: "Tel."
Abe touched the palm of his right hand to Tel's open right palm: "Abe."
Both hands instantly folded into fists and bumped each other.
"Teleborian Avivalaraza."
"Abraham Alexander."
Their hands disconnected and lolled to the grass as the new found friends surveyed each other.
"I work at the Stateler. I've been in Espliande for four years out of a fifteen year contract. I originally come from Old Hambria."
"I'm a mainlander," Abe said slowly.
Three were customary. Tel didn't know Abe, didn't know what he was coming from, wouldn't who to tell even if he were inclined to. But what of an APB? What if he'd aroused suspicion? Abe was about to launch into lies, Tel's glazed eyes glaring with the blissful non-thought of trained expectation. "I've been in Esplinade less than 24 hours." Tel already knew his name, what point would there be in embarking on deception at this point? "I'm from Jungarw."
"Jungarw?" Tel said, his glazed eyes suddenly betraying some spark of recognition.
