[There's a sense of age in his voice, the way he speaks- such a contrast to the young face looking from the phone to her. She wonders if perhaps he's one of the fairies himself, or if he's been too long away from whatever world he hails from. Whatever the explanation, she can't deny the familiarity of him.

She folds her hands under her chin in a practiced, elegant motion, mouth settling in a half smile. When she speaks she doesn't bother to keep the curiosity from her voice.]

London. Specifically 1891, if the year means anything. But do feel free to compare it to whatever you like- I'm rather familiar with both the mundane and the occult and fancy myself something of a quick study.