Last time I trusted someone I didn't know, they showed up at my bar wearing a goddamn Yankees jersey and I had to punch him in the fucking dick.
And you probably didn't understand two words of that. Ah well.
Anyhoo.
I'm Rachelle. The nice people that gave you that communicator you're using? Whatever they told you about this place is true. It's like some weird magic, basically. We're all in a world we don't belong in, trying to make a life for ourselves. Each area here has a leader/ruler of some kind, whether a king, a queen, a president, a mayor, WHATEVS.
Some people are gonna recognize you. You gotta be ready for that. For some people here, you and your world existed in theirs only as stories. Which means people might know more about you than you're comfortable with.
Bright side, nobody's gonna try to make you marry a kid here.
Now c'mon. I own a bar tavern here. I'll come get you and we'll get you a few drinks to calm your nerves.