A Phone Call Is Made

Open Phone Call

 [He's suspicious and well past grumpy, now, and a little worried...but he's also noticed that he's not alone. There are people who seem not to fit, like him. So he's going to try to figure this out...]

Hello?  Hello?

Is anyone else out there? Anyone else stuck from someplace else, like me?

The clothes are strange, the houses filled with ugly furniture, the locals all seem to be Muses... slow, dull Muses.  I can't remember how I got here, and I  have no idea what this is all about.

 

My "wife" says we have a car, but every time I try to figure it out I get a headache...and my spark seems to be gone.  Which is... disturbing.

 

I'm Tarvek.  Tarvek Sturmvoraus.  "Prince," if it matters to anyone.

 

And I'd really like a few answers.

 

[Anyone listening can hear him grumbling and muttering under his breath, huffing, "I feel like such an idiot talking into this thing...."]