Owen glared for a long moment, wondering if he could truss Morgyn, or someone else he could concievably blame for this, to the top of the water tower without pissing off Jack too much. Provided, of course, he could get back to reality, and into his fandom for long enough to do so.
"FLA is a bloody great bunch of loonies who play around with reality and story-streams and drive those of us who have to live with those story-streams up a wall. I've been dead the past..." he paused, trying to think. "Week, at least, probably more. Stuck in limbo, 'cause I refuse to go be a nice little dead character over the other side of the river - and don't bloody ask me what river, if you can't figure that one out on your own blondie, maybe you should lay off the peroxide and save what brain cells you have. Theoretically, that extractor of theirs can get anywhere. Except the real world. Which this," he gestured around them, "can't be."