"Wouldn't it be nice if we were kidnapped to some strange version of Indiana that they could at least limit those kinds of people? I mean, from the stories I hear, this place can do some incredible things. I think throwing out all the jerks would be an easy task." Or maybe, she wondered, it was a question of where to draw the line.
When the things were collected, she stood up. "Thank you, by the way. My name is Lydia. Lydia Martin." Her last name used to mean something, but only really back home in Beacon Hills.