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There's a cloud of silvery-green light circling the Cooper settlement. It's come a long way, to say the least, since when Joe arrived he was all the way in the Himalayas, shivering, and no amount of stern talk could make the cold and snow retreat for more than three minutes at a time.

A creepy, deserted town or two later, he's floating around the Cooper place. It, at least, seems neither creepy nor deserted, just a little strange.

The light-mist-thing resolves into a shape, sitting on top of the house, and then takes on sharp features and darkens until there's a young man with very messy dark hair and rather unnervingly bright eyes peering downwards. He'll just wait until somebody comes along to ask about stuff.

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"Year is believe 2006 'ere, sir. I'm from year o'our lord 1138."

"... Which lord?"

"Christ the Lord, son o'God, sir."

"Oh, that lord." Big grin! "Since when have people devoted years to Him? I thought years were counted since the last and first aurora. Everywhere remotely ... No, no, pretty much everywhere. Did I miss something while I was travelling?"

"Is the only way I know o'countin' years, sir. What's the aurora?"

"It's a lot of pretty lights in the sky, followed by a lot of people dying painfully." Joe blinks at him. "You are feeling alright, yes? Not running a fever, not playing host to any ... malignant ... things or somesuch. Right?"

"Nay, sir, 'ave some injuries but na sickness."

"Good."

Beat.

"So, er, where exactly are we?"

"Kansas, sir, which is in place called 'merica."

"... Never heard of either of them, and I'm fairly sure I've heard of everywhere that has a name to be heard."

"Oh aye, sir, so ye know o'Nottingham an Sherwood forest?"

"I meant countries." Patiently. "But I've heard of Sherwood. I've never heard of anywhere called Nottingham."

"Aye, sir, they're both in England, tis my 'ome, Nottingham is the city that Sherwood protects an girds."

"There hasn't been a city near Nottingham for over a century. Sherwood ate it." This is clearly a completely reasonable thing to say, as Joe sounds perfectly casual.

Will's just going to stare quite a bit,

"Sherwood forest ate Nottingham?"

"Their fault for building it right next to a forest, really." Mildly.

More blinking, "But tis Sherwood."

And something old and Green is very clearly in Will's eyes since he's Sherwood and Robin's man and Sherwood wouldn't eat Nottingham.

"... Yes, it is." Long pause. "I thought we already established that."

He's reaching over to feel Will's forehead. In case he has a fever.

Will backs away from him,

"Think we must be from quite different worlds then, sir."

"Yes, because different worlds is totally plausible while angry forests aren't." Joe does enjoy being sarcastic, really.

"Tis a strange wood 'ere, sir, but I know Sherwood, 'ave spent most o'my life under 'er boughs an aye she 'as 'er moments o'anger but na 'nough to destroy Nottingham."

"Just because you haven't seen her that angry, doesn't mean she can't be that angry." Joe points out.

"Did ye see Sherwood eat Nottingham, sir, or do ye only know a tale o'it?"

"I wasn't alive a century ago, of course I haven't seen it."

"Aye, an what year is it for ye, sir?"