Little did she realize that she made a misstep in her narrative. The story was by design to sound more fantastic and appealing to the listener but she didn't know enough about her current companion to know what he would prefer. The reality was that where she was from was as diverse as any other place it was neither perfect nor pristine. It also was not a place consumed by darkness and demons. Also she didn't really reside on it.. so much as she had been the world itself. Emphasis on past tense, not that she wanted to linger on that fact. She had failed her inhabitants in that sense and they could only live on in some sense through her exaggerated stories based in part on their lives.

Let her just pretend that she has any idea what London or Soho are. "Oh! Soho!" She beamed with recognition, smile broadening. "It's been some time since I've been there." You've never been there you pathological liar. "It's hard to get bored in a place like that." Marisol's long flowing robes would hardly be considered fashionable in the place he described. "Do you know? Is the Bottomless Tankard tavern still in operation?" Also, are taverns still a thing? Maybe she should have called it a bar. "If you like imperfection than the kingdom I described wouldn't be the place for you..... but the outskirts aren't that far off and they might be more to your liking".

"You didn't mention yours either.. but mine is Marisol." What are surnames.