Xaviers!

Getting a flight to Uppsala had proven to be easier than finding clothes in Wanda's size. After only two hours, they landed in Sweden where it was a decent bit colder than it had been in Scotland. A short train ride later, they're at the train station in Uppsala. Wanda flags down a taxi and the driver loads up the few things they'd brought with them as they climb into the back for the ride to their hotel. Evening sees the surrounding city lit up with a large cathedral and castle the most obvious points on the city skyline.

Miriam, wrapped up in a stylish black coat, sticks close to Wanda. It's a foreign city she's not familiar with after all and while she trusts in her ability to understand people just through her telepathy doesn't mean she can actually speak Swedish. "Is this where you grew up?" she asks as they're walking.

Wanda nods, inhaling deeply to take in the cold air. "My mother was just getting started as a professor at the university when she had me. My father has been working for Dagens Nyheter, one of the newspapers in Stockholm, for years." Something about being here was making Wanda's accent start to wander back into some of her words.

"How far away is Stockholm from here?"

"15 or 20 minutes by train. A relatively easy commute, all things considered." Sliding an arm around Miriam's waist, she sighs contentedly. "The city has always felt its age, if that makes any sense."

"It's a beautiful city. They kept most of their history instead of plowing over it with factories." she says, leaning into Wanda. It was something that seemed to come easy, if only for the fact that the other woman was significantly taller than her and her shoulder fit under Wanda's arm pretty comfortably.

Out of the corner of her brain, Miriam picks up on a stray thought of someone thinking they recognize Wanda.

"It was a nice place to grow up. I don't know that I'd want to come back here to live."

"I guess it never occurred to me that some people might want to go back to live where they grew up." she admits as she looks around, trying to pinpoint the person she got the glimpse of recognition from.

It takes her a moment, but it's a young woman about their age. She's watching them with idle curiosity with a sense of 'surely that's not who I think it is.'

"Some people must, because there are families that have been in places for ages. I prefer travel."

For a moment Miriam is tempted to just look into the woman's mind to find out for herself, but Wanda talking interrupts that train of thought. "I suppose... Hey, don't look, but I think somebody recognized you." she says instead before giving Wanda a short description of the woman.

Wanda looks puzzled for a moment, "Sounds maybe like one of the friends I had growing up... hopefully if she did recognize me, she'll assume that my parents know I'm here and not say anything. That's a conversation I'd rather not have."

"I mean... I can make sure of that if you'd rather not talk to her."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind talking to her. It's my mother coming after me for not telling her I came to Uppsala that I'd rather not have. But right now, I'm here with you, that's where I really want to focus."

"Okay..." Miriam smiles and just gives the woman's mind a slight nudge to discourage her from mentioning she'd seen Wanda at all.

"Are you hungry?" Wanda says as their walk takes them along the river in the middle of the city. "I know some good restaurants. No stars to their name, but good all the same."

"I could eat, yes. And despite what I might want, I'm not too spoiled to eat at a regular restaurant. Yet."

Wanda smirks at her, "I will try to keep you grounded in the culinary sense." She led them around to a small, almost hole-in-the-wall restaurant just a little ways from the river. The place is pleasantly busy without being overcrowded and it's only a few moments before Wanda and Miriam are seated.

"Nothing wrong with quality cuisine." she points out, but to her credit she seems okay with Wanda's choice of venue. "Anything you'd especially recommend?"

"We should probably play it safe and start you off with the köttbullar. Swedish cuisine is... an acquired taste if you did not grow up here."

"I'll trust your judgement."

They order and what arrives turns out to be meatballs in gravy with a side of potatoes, some pickles, and some lingonberry jam as well as some bread for the table. "Comfort food as the Americans say."

"Very... homey." she says and she does try to make it sound like a compliment. "It's not bad..." she adds after a couple bites.

"When I have a chance to make some reservations, we'll go somewhere nicer," Wanda says, "This is the sort of thing I grew up eating, so I have to have some whenever I'm home."

"No no, it's good. Better than the caviar was."

"Many things are better than caviar," she says with a smile. The impression that they're being watched touches Miriam again, but she can't seem to pinpoint it this time.

"It's expensive. You'd think it was good." she says, glancing around the room.

No one seemed to be paying them an inordinate amount of attention. The occasional glances of the other patrons seem reasonable, especially since Miriam and Wanda are speaking in English. The sensation of being watched persists though.

"Sometimes simple and inexpensive is good, sometimes expensive is good. There's no blanket rule."

Miriam frowns for a moment, then tries to shake the feeling off. Maybe she's just being paranoid.

"Well, you're paying for something, but I guess that doesn't always have to be quality of the food..."

"You're always paying for something... something wrong?"

"I just think it's worth striving for the nicer things in life."

"No, sorry," Wanda says, realizing she'd been misunderstood, "You looked like something was bothering you. Is something wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh I just thought I felt somebody watching me, but it's probably just that I'm an obvious tourist..."

"Possible. Could also be that you've got some admirers as well," she smiles, "They can just remain jealous of me."

"I do believe you have that backwards, but I'll take it..." she smiles.

"Remember, I'm not unusual here, well other than being ridiculously tall. You're... you're unusual and dare I say... exotic?" She obviously teasing, but it's good natured.

"You'll find there's nothing exotic about England." she chuckles. "Because we went around the world and called everyone else exotic first."

"And my ancestors came to pick up some furnishings from England and ended up buying the eastern coast."

"Let's face it, we're two Europeans, neither of us is exotic. And you're the one that stands out."

"Of course, but it's amusing to imagine."

"That exotic black hair..." she chuckles.