Greta isn't sure whether she ought to be reassured or unnerved. It's a small relief to have someone else confirm that this is a dream, even if that someone else is some sort of mysterious talking cat. But if this is some piece of the Rift she's talking to... what should she say? The temptation to give it a piece of her mind is strong, but the last thing she ought to be doing is angering it.
If it's the Rift. Would the Rift call itself a visitor?
"Who are you, then?" she asks, planting her hands on her hips. Her determined posture takes a bit of a blow as the scene around them shifts, and she twists around to take in their new surroundings. It's an apartment - bigger than the one she lives in now, but not so different otherwise. The cat is still sitting on a counter, though this one is devoid of baking supplies. It's all very tidy, she realizes - not so much as to not look lived-in, but more as if whoever lives here is expecting company.
There's a knock on the apartment door. Greta glances between it and the cat, then sighs. "I'll just get that, shall I?" she says in a dry undertone, making a point of not turning her back on the cat as she edges over to the door.
She doesn't recognize the man standing out in the hall, nor is she thrilled to see that he, too, comes with a collection of cameramen. He seems to recognize her, though. "Hey," he says affably. "Now that you've had two weeks to make those changes I recommended, I wanted to stop by and see how things were going." His gaze slides past her to the cat on the counter, and he smiles. "Hey, buddy."
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If it's the Rift. Would the Rift call itself a visitor?
"Who are you, then?" she asks, planting her hands on her hips. Her determined posture takes a bit of a blow as the scene around them shifts, and she twists around to take in their new surroundings. It's an apartment - bigger than the one she lives in now, but not so different otherwise. The cat is still sitting on a counter, though this one is devoid of baking supplies. It's all very tidy, she realizes - not so much as to not look lived-in, but more as if whoever lives here is expecting company.
There's a knock on the apartment door. Greta glances between it and the cat, then sighs. "I'll just get that, shall I?" she says in a dry undertone, making a point of not turning her back on the cat as she edges over to the door.
She doesn't recognize the man standing out in the hall, nor is she thrilled to see that he, too, comes with a collection of cameramen. He seems to recognize her, though. "Hey," he says affably. "Now that you've had two weeks to make those changes I recommended, I wanted to stop by and see how things were going." His gaze slides past her to the cat on the counter, and he smiles. "Hey, buddy."