Finding the Lost [Closed]
Characters: Harry Dresden, Uchiha Fugaku
Content: Fugaku wants to find something of his. Lucky for him, Harry Dresden is quite good at that sort of thing.
Location: Pennsylvania Hotel lobby
Time of day: mid-morning
Warnings: possible language/violence
In truth, this was one of the last things Fugaku wanted to do today, or even this week, but here he was, and it wasn’t even later. It was, in fact, rather early by some standards. He didn’t have a watch, but guessed it to be about eleven or eleven-thirty (it was, in fact, eleven-twenty-four, but who cared about specifics like that?).
This was a bad idea.
He really did want his dog-tags back, though.
Goddamn him for being sentimental.
Checking his illusion one more time, Fugaku exhaled, and walked into the hotel lobby. He was using henge, and the appearance of one of his older cousins, Uchiha Kiyomi. His hair was now braided into a thick rope that hung down past his waist, studded with gleaming senbon, and there was a dented forehead-protector around his neck.
He was also, for all extensive purposes, looking like a girl with rather noticeable curves. It was a weirdness that took time to get used to, but Fugaku had managed. He always did. It took more energy that it should have, but henge was simple, a rookie technique. A shinobi could see through it, and maybe a wizard could as well, but Fugaku had always been cautious
“Dresden-san?” he asked in Kiyomi’s musical voice.
Content: Fugaku wants to find something of his. Lucky for him, Harry Dresden is quite good at that sort of thing.
Location: Pennsylvania Hotel lobby
Time of day: mid-morning
Warnings: possible language/violence
In truth, this was one of the last things Fugaku wanted to do today, or even this week, but here he was, and it wasn’t even later. It was, in fact, rather early by some standards. He didn’t have a watch, but guessed it to be about eleven or eleven-thirty (it was, in fact, eleven-twenty-four, but who cared about specifics like that?).
This was a bad idea.
He really did want his dog-tags back, though.
Goddamn him for being sentimental.
Checking his illusion one more time, Fugaku exhaled, and walked into the hotel lobby. He was using henge, and the appearance of one of his older cousins, Uchiha Kiyomi. His hair was now braided into a thick rope that hung down past his waist, studded with gleaming senbon, and there was a dented forehead-protector around his neck.
He was also, for all extensive purposes, looking like a girl with rather noticeable curves. It was a weirdness that took time to get used to, but Fugaku had managed. He always did. It took more energy that it should have, but henge was simple, a rookie technique. A shinobi could see through it, and maybe a wizard could as well, but Fugaku had always been cautious
“Dresden-san?” he asked in Kiyomi’s musical voice.