A frown crossed Henley’s face. Of course she hadn’t been expecting it to be easy, but she hadn’t been expecting royalty, either. He was not only clearly distressed, but tossing around threats. Henley knew the threats didn’t matter much. Unless Management willed it, there was little chance of any army showing up and laying waste to the tents and trailers she now called home.
“Witchcraft. Maybe.” She affirmed, standing once more. “Or really advanced science. I’ve been debating between the two. No one really knows exactly how we’re brought here.”
She paused for a moment, trying to remember proper titles, but wound up shrugging it off and going with a guess. “Listen, your highness, there’s nothing you or I or anyone else brought here can do about it. We’re stuck. No threats or armies can do anything to help us. We’re in the same boat, the two of us.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, but the most you can do is shout at Management’s trailer and hope they’ll listen.” That was what Henley had done for weeks with nothing to show for it but she left that out. She wanted to leave the man with a little hope, even if it was false.