After spending a few hours in the Texans company, sitting on the sidewalk and sharing a few too many cigarettes, Oscar's head was still swimming with one part confusion and the other part sadness. Parting words of wisdom as entrusted to him had implied that perhaps he would do better venturing into town to feel his way around, under the guise that Oscar was simply a traveller who was way too out of his depth, rather than someone who had somehow travelled back in time. There was also the small issue of needing to solve the conundrum that presented itself, but Oscar had always been seen as careless and carefree at the best of times, so he simply chose to wander into town with just his thoughts for company.

'Town' or rather, central London, but 1980s style, was a grim site indeed. Everything was painfully the same, yet slightly different, as if it was simply marking itself out for the history books. The grand houses of Mayfair, worth ten million or more a go loomed over the poverty and the sadness of the rest of the city. Most everyone noticed, yet they simply dismissed it as just politics. Oscar shook his head, knowing that things would only get worse in time, as they always did.

Following Brendon's vague directions in his head he found himself stepping into a dingy bar called the 'The Dive' just off of Baker Street, so pathetic in its appearance that all that remained of the sign was the 'ive.' Inside, the stench of tobacco violated his nostrils and his lungs, and the sound of punk music, only 10 years old at that point, nearly shook the place. Taking a quick look around, Oscar noticed that the only two people in the building were the barmaid, a 5'6 ginger girl in a black polo shirt and a pink skirt, who must've only turned 21, absent-mindedly cleaning glasses. The other must have been a regular, slouched over the bar, nearly half asleep, his short black hair sticking out at ungodly angles as he nursed a whiskey.

Oscar had never wanted to leave a place more urgently.

"Alright, love, what can I do for you?" the barmaid spoke, her thick East London accent coming through in practically every syllable.

"Oh, I'm okay, thank you-"

"Shut up, he'll have a pint of whatever's good." The stranger interrupted him, slurring his words.

Oscar turned towards him to offer his thanks, but he either was too drunk to notice or too drunk to care, lifting his head briefly before letting it fall on the bar once again with a thud.

"he's always 'ere, say's he's a traveller that's trying t'find someone, but I think it's a load of bollocks." The barmaid shrugged her shoulders, gently pushing a pint of bitter towards Oscar and waving her hand when he offered her money.

"What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry it's not like..."

"No, I'm not... uh..."

"You're not inclined?"

"Right." Oscar could tell that she became more relaxed in an instant as he shot her a kind smile in return.

"I'd be careful saying that in 'ere, we're liberal types you see but a lot of people aren't too accommodating. We can only hope that things will change, eh?"

As they settled in for an evening of talking- after which Oscar discovered the woman was called Jane- they hardly noticed as the stranger silently left the bar and headed out, far too smashed to have a coherent thought in his head. Later, when Oscar would retire sleepily to bed, growing accustomed to the change of scene, he thought about what Jane had said about times changing. They certainly will, Oscar thought, letting the darkness engulf him.