There goes the punchline.

The guy in front of her fell down like the scarecrow he looked like. The thirteen-years-old couldn't suppress a smile. Isn't it fun when a conversation works out more entertaining than the way you intend it to?

"Wha-what do you want with me?" The boy stayed on the floor, propped up by his arms and looking at her with saucer eyes.

She stretched out on the table, enjoying the freedom. Her joints popped noisily.

Boxes are not ideal transportation.

"I don't know," she tilted her head left and right, "you don't know. They don't know."

She paused.

"He probably knows."

The boy was now getting up. Despite being infernally skinny, he wasn't really short. His head full of blond hair easily skimmed near six feet.

She expected to hear a standard "who is he?" Like they do in those ridiculous horror movies.

Instead, she watched as the boy's lithe body launched towards the door of the room and made contact with a surprising force. A wail escaped his voice as well as a "LET ME OUT!"

Grown-ups.

"Open the door!"

She thought about telling him that the door opens inwards and him pounding on it would only make it harder for them to open, but oh, well. She just fished out some of the ramen they gave her.

"She's a demon! Let me out! Please!"

She would've been offended if she wasn't enjoying the spicy and juicy and starchy texture so much, a hint of tomatoes buried under it all. It was literally the perfect food in every way. Since when did police stations cook such good ramen?

"Please! Help me! I didn't do anything!" The guy sounded on the verge of tears.

It was getting all too noisy. Emma sighed and put the fork down.

"They can't hear you."

The boy, Ed the name she learned, looked back towards her like fallen prey. Sitting down, he huddled next to the door, crouching so small that Emma thought his bones would merge into one another.

"What do you want?" He kept his eyes on her.

"Well", she sat straight, "I can settle for talking to you."

As she said that, his eyes flicked off her face, over something on the table. Then back up again.

Jackpot!

"And I can tell," she smiled like a cat, "you want this." She pointed at the cup of ramen.

For a moment, he was unresponsive, looking at her in the same daggers of fear. Then the daggers got sharper, and his scowl deeper as he stood up as carefully as a building, and in three elongated steps, sat on the chair opposite to her.

She beckoned him to enjoy the meal.

More on edge than a wild cat, he hesitantly grabbed the fork and started to stuff his face with the food.

After a couple of mouthful(s), he looked up to meet her blue eyes with his light brown ones, now more defiant than scared.

"Okay," he sat stiff as a stick. Sounding sharp as a spear, "I have two questions for you. Unless you answer them, I'm going back to banging."

"Ask away."

"First, why the hell wasn't anyone opening the door? I understand, police couldn't care what happened to me, but it'd get them in trouble if they let little-miss-no-history get hurt."

Emma sighed. Life is just too kind to her today.

"We're not happening."

She almost giggled out loud at the confusion that swept through Ed's face. He was one of those people who were really fun to get reactions from.

"I wasn't under the impression that we were," he blinked in rapid fire succession.

"To them, we're not happening. To them, we're just having a nice, casual conversation. Not me flashing you, and you being an idiot."

"So, they're seeing an illusion or something? Like me pouring the content of this cup on your head?"

"No, that's true, what they're seeing," she paused for the blow, "just this is true too."

Perfect.

"Like, we're in a different dimension or something?" Ed chopped the table with both hands.

"Mmm..." She played with her hair, "More like a different timeline."

Ed was turning paler than he already was, "and how do we get back?"

Emma considered telling him that they couldn't but, one, that is not the truth, two, she decided to be the better person.

"It'll just come to a point and they'll just get together again. Usually, it's five minutes after whatever abnormal went down."

Ed lowered his head, seemingly digesting this.

"Okay, second question-"

But he never got to speak it, as a sound, a roar, louder than a jet engine on tequila, went through them like a shock wave, reverberated off the walls and audibly shook the glasses. It was followed by a loud thumping sound and something, something huge, crashing. Ed had moved to under the table at some point and was now looking around.

Then to her surprise, he grabbed her legs and pulled. She easily slid down right next to him.

His breath was warmer than his body, and it smelled like chilly and trash cans.

"What was that?" Ed whispered.

With a sigh longer than a sales pitch, she replied, "My brother."