“Is that you, Geordie?” he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, and had a small tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the innards of the press. “Took ye long enough. Did ye get the – ” “It isn’t Geordie,” I said. My voice was higher than usual. “It’s me,” I said.”

“Is that you, Geordie?” he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, and had a small tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the innards of the press. “Took ye long enough. Did ye get the – ” “It isn’t Geordie,” I said. My voice was higher than usual. “It’s me,” I said.”

— Diana Gabaldon