Ragnar and Marta: Museum
She'd been certain, at one point, that she'd been awful to the person receiving her postcards. That they were naive and she was rude. But somehow they'd managed to keep talking, and she'd ended up with a box full of pastries (that she'd eaten far too many of) and an appointment to meet at the Natural History Museum. They'd already talked on the forums, before any of the postcards began appearing, and she'd figured she might stop by at some point. It sounded interesting, if nothing else. But she hadn't planned to take him up on the offer of a tour.
Apparently, Marta had changed her mind.
It wasn't quite seven on-the-dot, but it was only a few minutes later when she entered the museum and, with a glance around, made her way to the cashier to buy her ticket. She'd had absolutely no idea what was appropriate to wear - to a museum in general, and to get a personal tour in specific - so she'd gone to the thrift store and managed to find something to wear that landed between the shapeless things that rehab had given her when she was released, and the too-tight, too-short, too-revealing things she'd worn when she was working the streets and the vampire hotel in the city. Hair braided so that it hung forward over her shoulder and money and phone tucked into her pockets, she didn't carry anything as she approached the desk.
She didn't look at the guy standing there at first, nothing more than a passing glance as she walked up. It wasn't too much of a leap to assume that he was Ragnar, waiting there for someone he didn't know to appear. If Marta wanted, she could just buy the ticket and go inside, pretend like she was just another person there to see the exhibition. But once the cashier handed over her admission ticket, she tucked it into her pocket with the money, and with a bit of a steadying breath, turned to face the man.