Convergence

Wesley awoke in Eliphia's spare bedroom, disorientated to the point of dizziness. He recovered from almost falling out of the bed and sat up against the headboard. He had slept in a white T-shirt and a pair of boxers, the T-shirt a hurried purchase from Primark and the underwear he was already wearing. He could not figure out where he'd put his trousers and severely hoped Eliphia lived alone for he would simply have to go to breakfast without them. He sauntered downstairs and his wish was granted. Whether she lived alone or not, Eliphia was alone right now. He wasn't especially pleased to be trouserless when he'd known Eliphia under twenty-four hours, but at least she knew his predicament.

 Eliphia was sat at the table when he entered, munching on some toast. Wesley raised his eyebrows at the toaster to ask if he could make some for himself. Eliphia nodded and motioned to the cupboard that housed the bread. He hauled out the bread and slipped it into the toaster.

 "So that thing that said we had to go to all the settings for these filmsand TV shows?" Wesley turned to Eliphia.

 "Yeah?"

 "Do we have to meet up with all these other people too?"

 "Well, I'm presuming not all characters were being watched and -"

 "Please, don't say characters," Wesley grimaced.

 "All the ... people. I think we just meet up with those four people and go to those four places."

 "Where are we?"

 "New Delhi."

 "How are we going to get to Chicago?! I'll never get home."

 And then they were both tumbling. Eliphia a first-timer, Wesley practically a veteran by now, they slid through layers of reality - real, daydream, fafantasy, nightmare - then climbed doggedly back through to the real world. They were in a grey box room, lined with the half-essence that had slipped out of Eliphia's television. The floor was constructed of mirrors and Eliphia wondered if any Scottish characters had been ejected, and whether they'd be wearing kilts. Everybody knew what went on under a kilt.

 Proceed to Convergence.

 Wesley motioned to a metal door with a great tiller of a doorknob he leaned to the right and hauled open the door.