Dresden Files Fic
Title: Inquiring Minds
Author: Cyloran
Prompt: 12. That's my story and I'm sticking to it
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Bob and uninvited guest
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 923
Summary: There's no satisfying the press…
The bell had been Lt. Murphy's idea. Although it was annoying as hell, the residents eventually agreed that it was a necessary evil.
The man in the rumpled linen suit, white tennis shoes, and dented fedora didn't seem too pleased with it, either. He visibly winced at its merry jingle when he opened the shop door and shot a glower of annoyance in its general direction.
Maybe no one heard that.
"May I help you?" inquired a stiffly British voice from surprisingly close by.
So much for stealth!
"Yeah, you can help me," he said as he turned to confront the owner of the voice. He'd been in enough of these situations to know how to brazen them out. "Look here, the public has a right to know what's going on with the … hey, wait a minute!" He jabbed a finger at the stranger. "You're not Dresden."
"How very observant of you," sniffed the tall, lean, imperious-looking man in the expensive, impeccably tailored suit. "Obviously, I am not."
"Then who are you?" he demanded. "You some kind of butler or what? Man! Do the cops pay Dresden that much money for consulting that he can afford that kind of help?" He glanced around the room, assessing. "It's pretty obvious he's not putting it into his digs, that's for sure." He took a step forward as if to investigate further but the snooty guy in the suit took a deliberate step and blocked his path.
"Who I am is of no import. What is important is that you are trespassing."
"What trespassing? The door wasn't locked and this is a business, right? So? I'm here to do business."
"The door was locked. It took you a considerable amount of time to pick the lock with the tool that you slipped into your right jacket pocket." Folding his arms across his chest, Bob looked down his aquiline nose at the man. Had the intruder been a wizard or some other magical creature intent on harm, the wards would not have permitted him to pass through the threshold. That, at least, was reassuring. "From the sorry state of your attire, your clumsy attempt at forced entry, and the tape recorder creating that unsightly bulge in your trouser pocket, I must conclude that you are a scribe for one of the less reputable periodicals."
Grumbling, the reporter fished around in his jacket and finally produced a torn business card. "Carl Kolchak, Independent News Service," he said, offering the soiled little rectangle as proof. "And I'll have you know this is my best suit."
"No doubt."
Whether he meant his ID or the suit, Kolchak wasn't sure. "Okay, so I've shown you mine. Now show me yours. Who are you?"
"My name is Bob. I am Harry's … 'tea expert'."
"Tea expert? What the hell does tea got to do with these serial murders?"
"Absolutely nothing at all of which I am aware."
"Then why did Dresden call you in?"
"Perhaps he has an affinity for tea."
"And I’m a monkey's uncle," snorted Kolchak.
"If you insist."
Kolchak ignored the jib. In his line of work he was used to it. "Maybe there's some kind of ritual thing with the tea and these killings," he pressed. "Like maybe these guys are doped up with tea first and then their insides are liquefied with some kind of magic potion or zapped or something."
"Magic?"
"Sure, why not? You got something against magic?"
Bob lifted an eyebrow. "You believe the deaths to be supernatural in nature?"
"How else do you explain a couple of kids found with their insides turned into jelly? Not a single one had a mark on them. Well, except for the one kid that was missing half of his body. From what I can get out of Lt. Murphy, they still haven't found where the rest of him is."
She will very shortly, thought Bob archly but said aloud, "And what makes you believe that there isn't a perfectly logical, mundane explanation for the condition of their remains?"
"Because I've been in this business a long time, pal, and I've got a nose for news," replied Kolchak, tapping his proboscis for emphasis. "There's something fishy about these deaths. Something not normal! And I mean to find out what. The public has a right to know!"
"On the contrary, I believe the majority of the 'public' would prefer to leave such monsters under the bed where they belong. I can see no benefit in frightening them with horror stories."
"I'm reporting the facts! There are monsters under the bed. I've seen 'em. I'm practically an expert on 'em and believe me, they're as real as you and me."
"I sincerely doubt that you would recognize a ghost if it stood before you and said boo. Still…" He indicated a chair with a wave of a pale hand. "If you will have a seat, I will inform Harry that you are here to see him. Kindly do not touch anything while I do so or I may find myself forced to inform the authorities of your somewhat unorthodox method of entry."
"If it means getting an interview with Dresden?" Kolchak obediently (for the moment) plopped himself down on the chair. "Deal!"
"Very well. I will be but a moment." Bob walked across the room to the hallway that joined the shop front to Harry's apartment. "And Mr. Kolchak?"
"Yeah?"
"Boo."
"Huh?"
Bob merely sniffed his disdain as he stepped out of Kolchak's line of sight and vanished.
Author: Cyloran
Prompt: 12. That's my story and I'm sticking to it
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Bob and uninvited guest
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 923
Summary: There's no satisfying the press…
The bell had been Lt. Murphy's idea. Although it was annoying as hell, the residents eventually agreed that it was a necessary evil.
The man in the rumpled linen suit, white tennis shoes, and dented fedora didn't seem too pleased with it, either. He visibly winced at its merry jingle when he opened the shop door and shot a glower of annoyance in its general direction.
Maybe no one heard that.
"May I help you?" inquired a stiffly British voice from surprisingly close by.
So much for stealth!
"Yeah, you can help me," he said as he turned to confront the owner of the voice. He'd been in enough of these situations to know how to brazen them out. "Look here, the public has a right to know what's going on with the … hey, wait a minute!" He jabbed a finger at the stranger. "You're not Dresden."
"How very observant of you," sniffed the tall, lean, imperious-looking man in the expensive, impeccably tailored suit. "Obviously, I am not."
"Then who are you?" he demanded. "You some kind of butler or what? Man! Do the cops pay Dresden that much money for consulting that he can afford that kind of help?" He glanced around the room, assessing. "It's pretty obvious he's not putting it into his digs, that's for sure." He took a step forward as if to investigate further but the snooty guy in the suit took a deliberate step and blocked his path.
"Who I am is of no import. What is important is that you are trespassing."
"What trespassing? The door wasn't locked and this is a business, right? So? I'm here to do business."
"The door was locked. It took you a considerable amount of time to pick the lock with the tool that you slipped into your right jacket pocket." Folding his arms across his chest, Bob looked down his aquiline nose at the man. Had the intruder been a wizard or some other magical creature intent on harm, the wards would not have permitted him to pass through the threshold. That, at least, was reassuring. "From the sorry state of your attire, your clumsy attempt at forced entry, and the tape recorder creating that unsightly bulge in your trouser pocket, I must conclude that you are a scribe for one of the less reputable periodicals."
Grumbling, the reporter fished around in his jacket and finally produced a torn business card. "Carl Kolchak, Independent News Service," he said, offering the soiled little rectangle as proof. "And I'll have you know this is my best suit."
"No doubt."
Whether he meant his ID or the suit, Kolchak wasn't sure. "Okay, so I've shown you mine. Now show me yours. Who are you?"
"My name is Bob. I am Harry's … 'tea expert'."
"Tea expert? What the hell does tea got to do with these serial murders?"
"Absolutely nothing at all of which I am aware."
"Then why did Dresden call you in?"
"Perhaps he has an affinity for tea."
"And I’m a monkey's uncle," snorted Kolchak.
"If you insist."
Kolchak ignored the jib. In his line of work he was used to it. "Maybe there's some kind of ritual thing with the tea and these killings," he pressed. "Like maybe these guys are doped up with tea first and then their insides are liquefied with some kind of magic potion or zapped or something."
"Magic?"
"Sure, why not? You got something against magic?"
Bob lifted an eyebrow. "You believe the deaths to be supernatural in nature?"
"How else do you explain a couple of kids found with their insides turned into jelly? Not a single one had a mark on them. Well, except for the one kid that was missing half of his body. From what I can get out of Lt. Murphy, they still haven't found where the rest of him is."
She will very shortly, thought Bob archly but said aloud, "And what makes you believe that there isn't a perfectly logical, mundane explanation for the condition of their remains?"
"Because I've been in this business a long time, pal, and I've got a nose for news," replied Kolchak, tapping his proboscis for emphasis. "There's something fishy about these deaths. Something not normal! And I mean to find out what. The public has a right to know!"
"On the contrary, I believe the majority of the 'public' would prefer to leave such monsters under the bed where they belong. I can see no benefit in frightening them with horror stories."
"I'm reporting the facts! There are monsters under the bed. I've seen 'em. I'm practically an expert on 'em and believe me, they're as real as you and me."
"I sincerely doubt that you would recognize a ghost if it stood before you and said boo. Still…" He indicated a chair with a wave of a pale hand. "If you will have a seat, I will inform Harry that you are here to see him. Kindly do not touch anything while I do so or I may find myself forced to inform the authorities of your somewhat unorthodox method of entry."
"If it means getting an interview with Dresden?" Kolchak obediently (for the moment) plopped himself down on the chair. "Deal!"
"Very well. I will be but a moment." Bob walked across the room to the hallway that joined the shop front to Harry's apartment. "And Mr. Kolchak?"
"Yeah?"
"Boo."
"Huh?"
Bob merely sniffed his disdain as he stepped out of Kolchak's line of sight and vanished.