"For the most part, yes. There are some who seem to be natives, but... they're weird in their own sort of way." At least that was something of an answer. "Different times, too- obviously. And not everyone's reality seems to match up. This place is like some kind of dumping ground for every vortex in the universe -which is actually something I never would have dreamed of saying seriously more than a month ago. And my life is weird enough."
Or was.
"Hansel!" Having jogged around the coffee shop corner and across the street to the park, Gretel zeroed in on the spark of a white head next to a very familiar set of leather-clad shoulders. As soon as she saw him, her heart lodged in her throat and stayed there until she launched her arms around him. All the last weeks without him- months even, they blurred together at this point- they imploded in on her, crashing down the wall she'd erected to keep herself from going insane. His solidness, his scent of gunpowder and leather and dirt... he was real, and she was whole again.