Bertie's face lit up with delight as he shook her hand. "I say!" he exclaimed, "You're from London!" It was jolly nice to hear that accent, familiar to him from a thousand exchanges with cabbies and shopkeepers and people of that sort.
"I'm sure the kitchen is just the place," he said, happily falling into step with her and blatantly staring about him as they walk.
"Yes, I fear I shall be doing quite a bit of leaning. I'm rather a useless blot, as my Aunt Agatha reminds me regularly. Though I suppose there's no Aunt Agatha here, which is something of a silver lining. Dashed decent people too, as you say. Lexi did warn me about the apocalypse wheeze, said Lucifer himself pops by every now and again. She did say this place was safe, though. I will admit I was rather overwhelmed and didn't quite catch the details. When one finds oneself in Kansas in the future in the middle of the apocalypse being chummy with a vampire there's really only so much a chap's brain can take in, eh?"
He pulled out his cigarette case as he spoke, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and patting his pockets down looking for matches.