No strings, no tricks, no chance to break the Web of Time no matter what he did. And, no running. Even if being in love frightens him, he's got nowhere to run. It's almost liberating, in a strange sort of way. He may never remember what happens here, but at the moment, he doesn't care. He's not exactly inclined to want to go back to the horror of what he left.

Eight looks around, pondering the wide array of entertainment to be had. "Hmm, magicians, magicians...oh! This way."

With a tug on her hand, he pulls her off to one side of the crowd where a young, nimble man is doing some sort of magical act of your standard street magician kind. Still, in a city that's usually dull and in parts completely grey, this amount of color is staggering.