Finished
Anne blinked as she turned away from the gravesite to find herself someplace she'd convinced herself was a dream, with her memories of it all jumbled and fragmented. Maybe not a dream after all?
Shaking her head, she headed for the hotel, and the bar she remembered was there. A bar she distinctly remembered having a conversation with someone named Jack Harkness, now that she was back here. Better than a snatch of voice and a clear memory of a face that didn't match the one she knew.
Ordering a hypervodka, she settled into a barstool, looking around. There were more people than the last time, none of them particularly familiar. She focused on the one closest to her, and gave them a professional smile, pitching her voice just loud enough to be heard.