It was... curious, really. She’d grown accustomed to having her memories toyed with, and when she awoke with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, her first assumption was she was back in the accursed loop.
Morgan’s brow furrowed as she inspected her room. The Palilicium (or that was what the locals seemed to call it) was some sort of apartment hostel or something to that effect, as far as she could tell. She wasn’t on Earth, she wasn’t on Talos, she wasn’t in that secretive bunker that they’d been working on the last hope for humanity for inside of. Where here was? It was unknown to her.
She hated unknowns. She hated not having any data to go off of. She hated having no process to bring her up to speed yet again. Too many holes in her memory. Regardless, the doctor felt hilariously out of place in her pressure suit, given that the majority of the very curious-looking residents of the city she’d seen on a quick jaunt around the block were clad in attire that was not so... futuristic.
Setting out, the doctor reached into her bag and extended her cane with a flick of her wrist, working her way through the winding streets. She kept a close eye on the street signs so she could find her way back, and ignored any stares sent her way. Before too long, she’d managed to find a clothing shop, and Morgan was pleased to find that her credit stores were enough to allow her purchase of a simple outfit. It was nothing spectacular; a charcoal-gray, respectable-looking blazer with a burgundy blouse beneath, a mandarin collar button-up. She opted to go with a pair of black trousers and a set of boots, albeit ones with a low heel and a mid-calf cut. Looking slightly out of time with her oddly retro-styled-but-not outfit with her suit folded up in her bag, she began working her way back to the Palilicium, cane tapping gently at the cobblestones and brickwork as she walked her way back with a slight limp. Her hair gently rippled in the Autumnal breeze.
That was when she saw her, in front of a stand selling some sort of wares, but that wasn’t what had Morgan’s attention. Even from a moderate distance, even from behind and in different clothing, she would recognize that neck, her hair, the way she held herself, even with a new element of structure to her build.
That was Chief Systems Engineer Mikhaila Ilyushin.
Morgan’s jaw dropped a little, and she felt her breath catch, her heart leaping so far into her throat it felt like she was about to taste it. How? First she awoke in a place she was uncertain of the nature of, and then... of all people to run into, in all the worlds and times and spaces, it had to be that slavic woman with the astrophysics degree and her own know-how around a wrench, didn’t it?
Her hand not full of cane supporting her raised slightly and hesitantly just at about bust level with her fingers slightly curled, like she wanted to reach out but was stopped by some reservation.