[Video]

[pocketfulofsouls]

[ A bit after the pell-mell ordeal of waking up in a strange place with no clothes and no real knowledge of what is happening, this man shows up on the communicator. He's settled in what appears to be the common room of one of the passenger docks. If he's as tired as everyone else is feeling, he doesn't show it. He's actually regarding the camera with the disdain of someone coming across something unsightly, like a rat or a mysterious stain on the upholstery. He's dressed in black, but it's not the typical jumpsuit, oh no. This is an actual suit, matching tie, jacket, and shirt, all coal black. ]

So. Space, the final frontier, in a galaxy far, far away. I don't think a Rocket Man reference would be sorely amiss right about now - I think it's going to be a long, long time til touchdown brings us 'round again.

Tranquility...

[ There's a typical South London accent here.

The man squints appraisingly. ]

I like it. The irony, that is - the ship's sort of boring, isn't it? Too much room, a lot of strange echoes... Good thing I've got you lot.

[ A close-lipped smile, perhaps a twinkle in those dark, dark eyes. ]

I'm sure everyone's quite busy getting settled into their denial, so I won't waste much time. Let's start with a practical question for the oldbies: Where's the liquor?

For the whole of you, I've got something of a philosophical question: What would you be prepared to do in order to get back to where you belong?

Don't be shy, duckies, it's only hypothetical.