Bran's confusion was not reassuring. Brian looked down as he asked, incredulously, if he had forgotten the previous night. "No, I'm sorry." And he genuinely was. He wanted to make some excuse, but since he wasn't prying, he didn't. Instead, he just took in the information. The French Revolution? Eyes wide, he stared. "No..." he whispered, crossing his arms over his chest. "How is that possible?"
Before he could press the issue, the blonde spoke up. Glancing to her, he frowned. He never said she was. But her condition didn't look good. He opened his mouth to ask her if she needed anything when the others started to speak. So instead of butting in, he just watched the three others speak. The last man to wake up made him frown. Who was he to judge them? He was there, he was in the same damn situation. However, Brian just stayed silent until the group went quiet for a moment.
"We shouldn't be fighting," he said, taking a slight step forward. "This is a bad situation, but we have to get through it." He glanced to the girl. "We need to get something to eat before we all pass out, can we agree on that?" After a moment, he paused. "But what...what do you all mean, about...fables? We're...we correspond to characters?"