Zoey checks the message board semi-regularly. Just to try and keep apprised of things. She doesn’t expect to see a note written in what looks like pretty familiar handwriting, and signed with a familiar set of initials. The chances of it actually being him is… miniscule. The number of times she’s found the same people in multiple worlds she can count on one hand.

But it’s enough to make her wonder. Enough to make her curious.

And she has a tape measure plus enough carpentry skills to get by. So she goes, her warm longcoat billowing behind her. She needs to see for herself. Needs to know, one way or the other. “I come bearing a tape measure,” she says by way of greeting in a voice laced with what sounds like a rather proper English accent. England by way of a few other places, anyway.