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The Park [Monday early evening]

While Robin had managed to quit smoking cigarettes (...mostly), she still had the craving for the occasional cigar. Sadly, though, one of the downsides of marriage -- and cohabitation, for that matter -- was that she sort of felt guilty leaving cigar butts around for Benton to find.

Plus, she was sure that one of these days he was going to bust out a whole bunch of DARE gear, or McGruff the Crime Dog or something, to tell her about the dangers of smoking.

So, tonight she had taken three of the dogs for a walk around the park as she enjoyed her cigar. She let the dogs off their leashes as she sat on a picnic table, smoking, and let them play where they were. It'd be too cold for this kind of thing, soon enough (or at least cold enough that she'd get funny looks, Canadian or no), so she was going to enjoy it while she could.

[Robin's here to run into one in particular, but open park is open!]

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It wasn't terribly often that Wesley felt the need to be outside, but it was nice enough weather and he couldn't see any reason why he shouldn't take a walk through the park. So he did.

When he passed a random lady smoking a cigar on a bench surrounded by a whole bunch of dogs - well, that was weird.

Robin was going to just sit here, and smoke, and ignore all the obnoxious children who passed her path --

Wait. No. Seriously, no. Of all the people to show up on this island, after all this time, just to torment her.

"Sandy?" she sputtered, staring.

Wes blinked. Noooo... Crazy dog cigar lady was clearly confusing him with someone else.

"Er. I'm sorry?"

"Seriously?" Robin asked seemingly no one. "Seriously. Sandy, what are you doing here?"

But... But he wasn't Sandy, though! Confused, certainly. Sandy? Not so much.

"Er... I'm afraid I'm not familiar with a Sandy," he said slowly. Maybe she was crazy? He'd let her down gently.

The shock of seeing Sandy goddamn Rivers here had completely messed with the normally logical part of Robin's brain, so she skipped right over the part where she'd come to the realization that this probably wasn't actually good old Helmet Head himself.

"When did you get British? Oh my god, you're like, little too. Are you secretly British? Sandy Rivers is a secret British person. Or whatever your name was before you changed it," Robin said in disbelief. "Since I don't believe Sandy Rivers was ever your real name, anyway."

Great, Robin, confuse the kid more.

Wesley was utterly baffled. He was going to try and be dignified. He puffed ot his chest and replied, "No, Sandy Rivers is not my name. My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and I am from the Watchers' Academy in Southern Hampshire."

Pompous. Bold move, Wes. Go pompous with the apparently crazy person.

She peered at him, letting her eyes drift up to his hair. It wasn't all...Sandy-y.

"You're not Sandy Rivers," she said slowly. "You have no idea what I'm talking about."

Way to catch up, Robin.

"I'm sorry," he offered meekly. "Er. Is this Sandy a friend of yours?"

And was she looking at his hair? Well, it was quite nice, but still. Odd.

"Sort of," she said, still sort of suspicious. "Former coworker. Kind of a crazy person. Are you thinking about going into broadcast journalism, Wesley or whatever your name is?"

Maybe he was going to become Sandy.

Well. Crazy people associated with crazy people. Who knew?

"It is - not one of my intended career paths, no." Hmm. He looked like someone on TV? Well, that was high praise. Maybe not. And did that mean she was on TV too? Aaaaaalrighty...

"Okay. Stick with that," she decided. "And don't change your hair, kid. Or put product in it. Ever.

She thought that was good advice.

"Well, thank you," he said, puffing out his chest again. He'd had no idea he looked so nice today! He'd go ahead and take that praise, even if it was a crazy person telling him that.

"Seriously, are you new?" she asked, peering at him. "I feel like I'd know if there was a tiny Sandy running around."

She'd found tiny Lily and tiny Barney pretty quick, after all.

"I'm not tiny!" he protested reflexively. Ooh, that sounded kind of bratty. Oh well. Couldn't be helped. "And I've been here since July. I take it you've been here for quite some time?" She had that whole settled-in look, what with the cigar and the dogs. Though he could think of a few new students with dogs who might very well smoke, actually.

"Almost three years. I'm the deputy mayor," she offered. "And you're tiny, honey. I'm...well. I'm older than you. You don't need to know how much. And Sandy's older than me, so you're tiny Sandy. Accept it and move on gracefully."

They let crazy people be the deputy mayor? Or - NOW you're catching up, Wes - she wasn't actually crazy, he just had a doppelganger. An older, non-British TV reporter doppelganger with bad hair. Well.

"So I - look like this Sandy person," he clarified. "But younger. Er - what is he like?"

"Egotistical and deluded," Robin said easily. "And not English. He was my co-anchor. And he doesn't wear glasses."

Helpful!

Helpful, yes! And very, very creepy.

"That's, er. That's nice," he said skeptically. Yeah, the idea of some grown-up non-English Wesley running around was a little weird. "And you worked together. On television. As associates."

He tried to visualize this Robin person sitting in front of TV cameras with her dogs and cigar, flipping out on some innocent studio audience member who happened to look like someone she knew. He was quite certain he wanted to see this show as soon as possible.

"Er - how might I go about watching your show?"

She arched her eyebrow skeptically. "You want to watch archive footage of Sandy and me hosting the news?"

Weirdo.

Um, yes. Who didn't want to see themselves on TV?

"Is that - is that strange?"

"Yeah, I can get you a tape or something," Robin offered. "I guess it's not weird. I just don't know anyone who'd want to see that. Though I guess it's different for you." Pause. "I'm Robin, by the way. Do you go to the school or whatever?"

"Yes, I'm a junior there. And you're - a teacher?"

Somehow that didn't quite click. He wasn't being super logical today. Shut up.

"Nope, I just work in town. My husband's the security guy, though," she added. That was new. 'Husband' was still an interesting word to use. "If you've seen the Mountie around, that's him. But no, I just bartend and do the deputy mayoral thing."

Right, right. Deputy mayor. He was having some real listening problems today.
And clearly attempts at small talk were not going to be successful, because he just couldn't get over the whole look-alike thing.

It's a look-alike, Wes. It's Fandom. It happens.

"So, in your world, this Sandy person's a bit of a prat, yes?"

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The Park [Monday early evening]

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