Re: dreamland: becky/crane
Now that she knew, Becky couldn't believe she hadn't recognized him immediately. If there were differences, here and there, she didn't care, brushed them aside as though they were as meaningless as dust. She'd never expected to see him again. He was dead, so the hero had told her in her glass prison, and she hadn't been well versed enough in the ways of the hotel to realize that there was a chance he could return.
But, of course, this was a dream. It didn't necessarily mean he was back, but this felt so much more real than anything she'd ever dreamt before. And if he was just a figment of her subconscious mind, why would he be different? Why wouldn't he be the same?
"Another version," she echoed softly, almost disappointed. Him, but not him. She watched as their surroundings changed yet again, unconcerned, and she thought she might know where this was supposed to be. Arkham was familiar, too. "Yes. Jonathan Crane." Her gaze dropped to the nameplate, and she smiled. "Do you remember the virus? What we did?" She clasped her hands over her chest and sighed almost dreamily. "It was wonderful."