Folding the wings with some care, she turned back and held out a hand. “Summer. Good to meet you. Well. I mean.”
Arthur took her hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you Summer. If I may ask, where am I?”
“New York. The Big Apple.” She tipped her head to the side. “Where are you from, that you don’t know this skyline?”
“Well, I’ve gone from San Francisco to New York. I am originally from Camelot.”
“That’s a long way! You must be tired. Why so much — CAMELOT. You said CAMELOT.” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Ah, should I have … curtseyed instead?”
He gave her a questioning look. “I did say Camelot. Is that a surprise?”
“You … seem really comfortable here. So I guess it is a surprise.” She managed a shaky laugh. “Hon, to us you’re a legend.”
“I’m not really comfortable… I’m really homesick.” He shrugged. “What do you mean by a legend?”
Summer blinked. “So /that’s/ what that is. Curious,” she murmured. Her fingers flexed, and her wings rustled along with the flexion. “I mean that you’re about two thousand years out of time, Arthur.”