Another among the sudden influx of newcomers: a young woman with blue tattoos that ran in arcs up her left arm and over her heart, and a pallor that suggested she maybe hadn't seen actual sunlight in at least a decade. There was, incongruously for someone suddenly in a strange land, a bounce in her step and an actual smile on her face as she moved from stall to stall, asking questions of a fair number of the people she ran into but always polite. ("Where is this place? What kind of plant is that? Really, no satellites at all? You've never heard of someone called Handsome Jack?")

Honestly, Angel had been expecting to be dead. This world, wherever it was, appeared so far to be lacking not only in bandits but also in overtly hostile wildlife, heroically psychotic dictators, and eridium. In light of that, Angel couldn't bring herself to care very much about the absence of her powers or her general lack of knowledge of the situation.

So she wandered. At one point she stopped -- not quite in the middle of traffic -- to simply look up, for solid minutes. Skies really gained something when seen in person. More than once she changed direction a little too rapidly, nearly ran into someone, and made a hasty apology. She wasn't quite used to being around so many people.