(no subject)
At this very moment, there was nothing in particular the pie maker and his faithful dog Digby had to do.
They found themselves - Ned, in a black coat still damp with rain and shoes squeaking, Digby unhappy in a coat of damp fur - in the rec room after the kitchen was deemed unsuitable. For Ned and Digby, this meant there was no room to make a pie in peace. (And in this case, 'no room' meant, 'someone having a snack at the table'.)
So it was Ned thought to test his luck with the rec room. He rarely had a problem with the jukebox as so many people seemed to; he'd never really paid much attention to music in the past. He'd never paid much attention to anything in the past. Today, though, felt like a book sort of day. Digby immediately stretched out in a quiet corner, leaving his master to the bookshelf. Dogs had no use for them, and naps were preferred whenever possible.
For Ned, the bookshelf was never something odd, or a thing to be feared, cajoled, yelled at or avoided. For Ned, a temperamental bookshelf wasn't the worst thing he'd ever faced - that spot was firmly taken by both times his mother died, and admitting he accidentally involuntary manslaughtered Chuck's father.
The pie maker wasn't put out in any sort of way when he was presented with row upon row of colorful pop-up books. He merely gave the shelf a long look, then pulled one out at random: Pop-Up Pin-Up.
He shouldn't have been surprised.
Ned opened the book up - just to make sure it was the same one he'd read months upon months ago at the Pop Up Palace while on a case with Emerson. And just to be doubly sure, he did what the book instructed and a pin-up popped up. Another slid, another opened, and when he turned the next page, the double-page pin-up popped up just as he remembered. As Ned tilted his head to get a better look (just to be sure, of course), something nagged at the back of his mind.
If he'd paid a little more attention to his own thoughts and emotions that didn't have to do with Chuck, Ned might have realized the reason the bookshelf was so abundant with Emerson Cod's sacred cash cow was because he might, in some very small, very hidden part of himself, miss the knitting detective.
They found themselves - Ned, in a black coat still damp with rain and shoes squeaking, Digby unhappy in a coat of damp fur - in the rec room after the kitchen was deemed unsuitable. For Ned and Digby, this meant there was no room to make a pie in peace. (And in this case, 'no room' meant, 'someone having a snack at the table'.)
So it was Ned thought to test his luck with the rec room. He rarely had a problem with the jukebox as so many people seemed to; he'd never really paid much attention to music in the past. He'd never paid much attention to anything in the past. Today, though, felt like a book sort of day. Digby immediately stretched out in a quiet corner, leaving his master to the bookshelf. Dogs had no use for them, and naps were preferred whenever possible.
For Ned, the bookshelf was never something odd, or a thing to be feared, cajoled, yelled at or avoided. For Ned, a temperamental bookshelf wasn't the worst thing he'd ever faced - that spot was firmly taken by both times his mother died, and admitting he accidentally involuntary manslaughtered Chuck's father.
The pie maker wasn't put out in any sort of way when he was presented with row upon row of colorful pop-up books. He merely gave the shelf a long look, then pulled one out at random: Pop-Up Pin-Up.
He shouldn't have been surprised.
Ned opened the book up - just to make sure it was the same one he'd read months upon months ago at the Pop Up Palace while on a case with Emerson. And just to be doubly sure, he did what the book instructed and a pin-up popped up. Another slid, another opened, and when he turned the next page, the double-page pin-up popped up just as he remembered. As Ned tilted his head to get a better look (just to be sure, of course), something nagged at the back of his mind.
If he'd paid a little more attention to his own thoughts and emotions that didn't have to do with Chuck, Ned might have realized the reason the bookshelf was so abundant with Emerson Cod's sacred cash cow was because he might, in some very small, very hidden part of himself, miss the knitting detective.