[It's kind of hard to miss him, really. He's sitting in a big clearing, surrounded by a teapot and various teacups stolen from the kitchen, as well as some dry biscuits. His clothing makes him stand out from a mile away too-- the richly patterned fabric would probably be considered an eyesore to anyone not from his own time. He's sitting contently, communicator in his pocket, and looking up at the ceiling-- just staring off into space. It would be easy to sneak up on him, really.]
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