Her lips tugged up with a certain smugness that came with knowing more than he did, but she still led him, dismissing the child, the other visitors and the sights of the pits. There had to be a restaurant somewhere or a recreation area with internet, perhaps within the museum. She had seen people eating chicken’s wings, hadn’t she?
The man didn’t appear to stop talking. There went the paid no heed to everything he did and said exception what it mattered routine again. Hellsings had an acquired talent to ignore nonsense. Except for her uncle Richard, but he was a rotten apple in their family tree that was consumed by his own worms.
“We are going some place we can sit and you can use a computer,” she answered. “Do you believe this is a dream? This is not. You are wide awake.”