The sudden contact startles him a bit at first - maybe he's still unconsciously waiting for Booth to pop up and shove a gun in his face. But his smile softens into something more genuine, if still not quite happy. "Alright. This way."

He leads the way out of the prison gates, past a few lingering onlookers, and into the city streets. This might look a little more like what Greta's used to. Instead of cars, horses and carriages traverse the streets, and there's not even a single electric light to be seen. It's also a bit more somber than modern New York. Windows and storefronts are draped in black cloth, and many men are wearing black hatbands. They, too, ignore the Balladeer's passing; he and Greta may as well be invisible. He's gone too far off-script now, and she's in the wrong story altogether.

It would be nice if he could walk around a city not recently stricken with loss. That's part of why he likes Manhattan so much. But he tries to put it out of his mind, looking around for something more diverting to do. "Oh! Hey, look at that!" He points to where a tall marble tower, surrounded by scaffolding, rises over the otherwise modest skyline. "That's the Washington Monument. Not even finished building it yet - but I'm pretty sure it'll be the tallest structure in the world for a while once they do."