"No?" Peter said, disappointed. The attractive stranger was like him; he didn't know anything. "Bollocks. That's fucking great." He sighed, eyeing the man. He wanted to swear and yell and demand answers. He wanted to go see this mysterious fucking Management and get them to send him home. But he had no leverage here. Back in Vegas he might be the world-famous illusionist who got whatever he wanted, but here, he’d have to employ a bit more subtlety. Best to play his cards close to the chest for now.
"Less of a shock, more of an annoyance," Peter said, only sort of lying. He was used to things getting fucked over for him in strange ways due to the supernatural. "I'm not really expecting much in the way of help anyways. Just thought I'd ask around some. Any ideas how long we're meant to be here, at least?" he asked, more resignation in his voice than hope. He really didn’t like the sound of where all this was going.