She doesn't have to wait long. He's already out and about when he gets the message from Aeryn - curt as ever - telling him to meet her by ice rink (though Aeryn of course doesn't call it that, and her rather withering description of the place and the activity and the people doing it is so very Aeryn as to convince Crichton that she's the real deal rather than an impostor). In a few minutes he's there, dressed warmly against the cold, breath coming out in clouds as he trots the last bit of distance between them, face lighting up in the way that it always seems to when he sees her.
"Boy, it's good to see a friendly face." Not that her expression is particularly friendly, at least, it might not seem that way to a stranger. It is a relief, though, to know he's not the only one stranded here. How had they gotten here - and where in the hell was Moya and everybody else?
"Not too friendly." She tilts her chin at one of the small groups of giggling people with wings who have been staring at her since she arrived. "And yet, they remain."
Despite her words she does relax a bit when Crichton stands closer; the words, the body language, that expression are all so very him, familiar yet confusion at the same time, that she also feels certain that he is neither illusion nor hallucination brought upon by this place. "There have been no mention of Moya or the crew other than your own request for information. These people don't appear to have space flight, just genetically modified individual flight and some sort of ability range that falls under the heading of magic."
Aeryn takes out her device and finds a marked file, an announcement made weeks prior. "Have you seen this?"
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"Boy, it's good to see a friendly face." Not that her expression is particularly friendly, at least, it might not seem that way to a stranger. It is a relief, though, to know he's not the only one stranded here. How had they gotten here - and where in the hell was Moya and everybody else?
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Despite her words she does relax a bit when Crichton stands closer; the words, the body language, that expression are all so very him, familiar yet confusion at the same time, that she also feels certain that he is neither illusion nor hallucination brought upon by this place. "There have been no mention of Moya or the crew other than your own request for information. These people don't appear to have space flight, just genetically modified individual flight and some sort of ability range that falls under the heading of magic."
Aeryn takes out her device and finds a marked file, an announcement made weeks prior. "Have you seen this?"