Iran, indeed, had made him frown. Persia sparks a light of recognition in his eyes, as does Greece. That explains something of her looks. Her accent remains exotic to him, and her tale is even more so. A far flung Southern land colonised by the British? It's not out of keeping with their character in his own day, though their focus - everyone's focus - is on the colonies in the west, not the far south. It seems there's more to be discovered. He considers for a moment, before lifting his shoulders.

"1630. Somewhat before the eighteenth century. The colonies I know are in the Caribbean. A lot of terrible things happen there, too, so they have that in common. I'm d'Artagnan, of the King's Musketeers. What's your name?"

Perhaps he should have asked for that from the start. How strange, to be sharing such intimate quarters with complete strangers. Ordinarily d'Artagnan's only in that position when he's on a mission. He dearly wishes this was one of those times.