James is what we'll call restlessHe may not look it, as he's staring directly out the Observation Window without moving a muscle, but then staring at a perpetually moving light display is one of the last refuges of boredom, isn't it? So he's at the table by the Observation Window, the one he hasn't sat in for a while, the one he used to smoke at
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Sarah Jane plops into a seat across from him, notebook and Say True issue in hand.
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Because no, he really can't think of anything aside from that.
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It's possible James hasn't blinked in a while.
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It is also possible that James sees the hand and is not blinking on purpose.
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Hence she flicks James in the temple with her fingernail.
To test his android nature, no doubt, since she lacks a magnet.
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“Ow.”
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James Bond does not know Spider Nancy, son of Anansi. They've never met, never seen each other, and haven't even been in the same place and time by coincidence...until now. There would be no significant reason for Mr. Bond to pay Spider any mind...except for the fact that he's Spider...which is usually good enough. But in this case, with the son-of-a-god dressed in stylish black clothes, carrying a cane and doffing a top hat. He begins to resemble, no VERY MUCH RESEMBLES, a sort of ghost from James' past.
Cue Spider walking by, humming to himself as he takes a table nearby and orders a drink. It would be very hard to distinguish him from the Baron Samedi, the voodoo magician. Unaware of this fact, Spider sets out merely to enjoy the evening.
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James does, however, give the man’s attire a curious raised eyebrow. Top hat and cane--he doesn't see that too often, anywhere.
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Yes, timeline screw-ups are a real pain...assuming you've had one. Actually, since time erases all wounds, and everything that disagrees with it, you don't feel a thing, because it was another you that suffered. In any case, Spider places his hat on his cane and stands it upright - as in, standing on end without support - before attending to the motion at hand. Spider's world had an ethereal law. He was one of the only type who could tap it, but there we are. So, when something odd comes up in, say, a deck of ordinary playing cards, you start to wonder. Spider was playing Solitaire with Jokers. All Jokers.
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James sits up straighter, now peering over Spider’s table, brows furrowed. As strange as this place is, he hasn’t met too many people with heavy strange content all by themselves.
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This from the man assuming that the guy is just as captivated by the window as he is.
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Yup, that's his answer.
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Raising an eyebrow, he shakes his head and jams his hands in his pockets. If people don't appreciate the view, what's this world coming to?
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