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Where the universe is concerned, Olaf doesn't generally question its choices. Bad things happen. Good things happen. Strange things happen, but usually it all fits together in the larger pieces of the puzzle. It's why he doesn't really do so much more than shrug when instead of walking into Mike's bar, he walks into a party in full swing where he doesn't recognize a single guest.

It's not like this is the first time it's happened to Olaf. Generally, him recognizing someone in a crowd full of people is usually a start. Still, he has learned to go with the stranger events in the universe and no one's died as a result of this little left turn, so he grabs the joint he'd tucked away behind his ear and drifts into the throng of people, observing the summer-like nature of the party from the vibrant drinks to the decorations to the clothes everyone's wearing. Really, this could very well still be Auckland for all he knows and whatever he took earlier had been laced stronger than usual, but Olaf's sort of getting the feeling there's more to it than that.

With no shoes and a Hawaiian shirt fit for a king, Olaf feels like he fits right into the breezy, summer theme of the party around him. He might not know how he got here, but Olaf's never turned down a good party. This one holds a great deal of promise.

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"Tall, skinny bloke with messy hair sounds like a very generic description for an alien. My cousin Axl has messy hair and is tall and skinny," Olaf offers. "Though, last we checked, not an alien. The jury's out when it comes to his friend, Zeb, though. He's weird." And for Olaf to say someone is weird, he truly and honestly feels that way.

"The Doctor?" he echoes, and feels very blue suddenly, very, very blue. "Doctor who?"

"Believe me, if you met him, he wouldn't be generic," said Martha, with a faint grin, almost to herself. She frowned a little, though, at the man (ask his name, Martha, jesus christ) and his sudden change of expression at the Doctor's name. Maybe he was from somewhere that the Doctor was known. Like the Daleks, calling him all kinds of epithets, Oncoming Storm and all that rubbish.

Not that this guy was a Dalek at ALL.

"Just the Doctor," she said. "I promise, if you're a decent person, he's a good guy." Or shit, maybe the man had issues with doctors full stop, in which case she was in trouble.

"Occasionally, I'm not a decent person," Olaf admits, which is pretty candid given the fact that he knows he's not a saint -- just a god. "I'm pretty quick to drink, I love fucking, and my family's got a history of some violence," he admits. "It's all very complicated with the Johnsons."

Martha appraised the man carefully, ten said, "Most of us aren't." It wasn't something she said casually, either, something that was deliberate, her truth. She'd done some nasty things, some things that she didn't like, in that year, for starters.

"There's nothing wrong with fucking or drinking," she admitted, grinning a little. "And violence...has its places, I'm not gonna deny it. So, Mr Johnson--"

It was a guess, but hell. She extended her hand for a shake. "I'm Martha."

Olaf leans over and shakes her hand firmly. "Olaf Johnson," he introduces himself. "Martha, that's a very sturdy name," he says of her. "You don't look like you were born in an era it was popular in, though or you've aged really, really well."

Martha laughed, though she knew appearances were sometimes deceiving. "I'm hardly a grandmother," she said, "but I was named after mine--well, my great-grandmother, that is. My dad said when I was born that I gave him a look just like hers when he was in trouble, so it was a good fit."

She lifted an eyebrow a little as she shook his hand, noting with curiosity, "Likewise the name Olaf, you know--not exactly everyday."

"Well, I'm not exactly an everyday sort of guy," he says pleasantly, seeing as you don't exactly get to be a grandfather of four boys without carrying around a grandfather's name. "I wasn't named for anyone, though," he says. "Our family just has a flair for the old names. My cousins, for instance; Mikkel, Anders, Tyrone, and Axl."

"Apparently not," agreed Martha, laughing, then swallowing a bit of her drink--fortunately not both at the same time. "Though Tyrone seems a bit out of context, actually, among the rest, unless I'm just rubbish at name etymology."

She leaned one elbow on the table and put her chin in her hand. "You seem to be adjusting to this better than me, so you must not be everyday."

"Why bother about the universe surprising you? It's only going to keep doing it," he advises with a blissed-out and peaceful opinion of all the information he's heard. "Never heard of aliens before today, but you know what? I had never heard of a Pimm's cup until about three years ago and now I have them all the time," he says, not touching on how Tyrone is out of place in both names, but also in looks and sides in parent disputes.

Martha doesn't need to know the whole gory story. "Plus, you can never discount what good herb can do to chill you out."

"You into cocktails, then?" Martha asked with a slightly furrowed brow as she went after a memory that wouldn't quite pin down. "It's a handy skill to have, one of my mates from uni put herself through school that way..."

The mention of weed made her laugh, though. "I don't really do that kind of chilled out, though, I'm sorry. Drugs testing, at work. I'm not keen on the idea of getting suspended."

"I'm into all drinks," he promises, seeing as he would never be so indiscriminate as to rule out a type of alcohol solely because it wasn't a cocktail. "My cousin owns a bar, another works for a vodka company. I'm very close to my family and all their joys, obviously, but sometimes, I'm also close for their stores."

"Ah, now, see, I don't work," Olaf says, shaking his head. "No worries about a drug test for me."

"Understandable, though I wish my family had that much booze. It'd ease family gatherings immensely..." Martha trailed off, realising that her family really had been better since the Year That Was.

"Wait, you don't work?" He didn't strike her as the type.

"Mostly, I surf," Olaf says, which isn't a job. It's a way of life and also what he genuinely loves. "Not for money or anything, mostly because I really love doing it. Occasionally, I'll pick some money up doing odd jobs, here and there, but the nice thing about family is that they take you in when they need you and they need me an awful lot."

At least, when his oracle senses are actually working properly.

A surfing stoner without a job who lived off his family, mostly...jesus, you know how to pick them, Jones, Martha thought to herself. But Olaf was friendly, and she needed friends here, wherever here happened to be. "I'm a doctor," she said. "I get plenty of the 'oh, can you tell me what my pain is, Martha' stuff from the family--what do yours need you for?"

"Advice, mainly," Olaf says, smiling easily. "They have a real ability to get themselves into the kind of trouble that needs a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen," he says. "Women trouble, mostly, but occasionally there are the life crises that pop up."

"I know that feeling," Martha said with a self-debasing smile. "Though it was more my dad having women trouble, for a while." Until things changed.

At that memory, she downed the rest of her drink. "Apparently the rooms here are free?" she said, which was not the invitation it may have sounded like. "I seriously don't understand how this place works."

"If they're free, then I shall be staying longer than expected," Olaf says, given how much he'd prefer that scenario to that of one where he's expected to pay rent or get up and go. He's not sure how that's fair. He's related to the family, but Michele and Ingrid are getting free lodging without even offering any god-related help.

Well, apart from Michele sitting on Mike's dick, that is. "Don't seek to understand. Only enjoy what you're given," he advises.

"I intend to," Martha replied. "I tend to, well, do what I like." She wasn't exactly ashamed of this, either, though she might have been a little ashamed about how she was looking down into her glass.

"Though I have a job," she noted. "A job that I should really get back to, though I was rotaed off tomorrow."

Olaf nods his head thoughtfully, reaching around him to pick up one more drink. "Well, if you're going to go, you might as well have one drink. The last thing you need is to walk away from your sudden summer party in a strange place without a good last memory," he advises.

"I was under the impression it wasn't very easy to get back home. Not sure if I'm going to make it for my next shift." This, oddly, didn't worry Martha as much as she expected it to, and she frowned a little to herself...

Before signalling a passing waiter for another round for both her and Olaf. He looked like he could handle it.

"I like to think that if you truly need to be somewhere and you're meant to be there, the universe will make it happen," Olaf says knowingly. "Of course, the cosmos can work in mysterious ways, but you should never second-guess it," he advises.

"I'm wondering if this isn't where the universe says I should be," replied Martha, "instead of the hospital. You sound like my friend, when you say stuff like that, you know. My time-travelling friend. All old and sage and wise."

"Well, I am very old. Occasionally sage. Never wise," Olaf replies, grinning and giving her a wink. "I feel like the best knowledge is out there and you just have to be ready to hear it. Then it hits you, like a meteor out of the sky," he insists.

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