The first thing Deanna really thinks as she glances around -- aside from the inevitable "Why isn't this working?" -- is that it's a good thing allergies are mostly a thing of the past. This amount of dust must stir up someone's allergies. The second thing is that she really does love a good Western. Followed by the wondering if why this program is still running and whose program it is. It definitely doesn't look like one of hers or Alexander's or anything she's ever seen. And she's actually sensing things. It's difficult to read them all, but this is not what she would feel from holograms.

Or the Borg.

Her attention shifts from frustration to wariness with mild curiosity mixed in. A doctor would be a good place to start, especially if that flowing red head of hair means what she thinks it does.

"Thank you," she tells the bartender, finally managing a smile of both politeness and gratitude. He is helping her, after all. "I think I'll do that."

Turning, she heads for the poker table. Even with whatever is going on, it's probably still rude to pull a player out from the middle of a game. Instead she waits on the outskirts and when it seems like they're ready for another hand, she slides in. "Excuse me. You wouldn't happen to have room for another player, would you?" she asks, deciding to play the part of whatever program or weird reality this has become. As she pulls up a chair, she tries to catch Beverly's eye and sense anything she can from her friend while she goes.

Unlike Beverly, Deanna is uniform, though it's not one this Beverly has ever worn. Or maybe even seen.