Curiosity killed the Outlander

JEREMY I picked up a bar tab and drank myself stupid; I flirted with strangers just to feel attractive After several hours in this place, Jeremy was mostly sure it wasn't a dream. It was too real, from the bite of the cold in the wind to the conversations of other people, the fact that he hadn't woken up yet...but he had no idea what it was. As much as he would be loathe to ever admit it, there was a panicked feeling in his chest that almost made him feel like a lost little boy. The warmth of the tavern had been pleasant, but it was time to stop drinking and try to work out what the hell was going on in this place. He had found somewhere that was like a market of sorts, he reckoned - full of people selling meats and books and candles. They were all dressed warm where he wasn't; Jeremy pulled his thin suit jacket over his shoulders and sighed. Then something caught his nose...a sweet smell, usual among the scent of crisp clean snow and bloody meats from a butchers stall nearby. He tried to follow it; he wasn't even sure why at this point. But something different might mean some answers. It brought him to a building which seemed to be some sort of medical facility, from what he could see inside. He wasn't sick, but he would catch his death of cold soon enough; perhaps the people inside would be willing to help him find a bed for the night or a warm meal. Trying not to think of his warm study or comfortable bed (where Diana must be laying right now, he thought, wondering where the fuck I am) he raised a fist and knocked on the door. Phoebe