(no subject)
If there was anyone in a position to know when someone was gone or not, Keith supposed it would be him; they were one of the first points of call, after all. Someone apparently not around? Get the IPD to investigate. Not everyone did it that way, but it happened.
He'd looked, because Sam Vimes was not a man to avoid work, and he'd put out patrols, in case this was another one of those deceptive cases and he'd actually just ended up in dinosaur territory. But there was nothing to be found and, frankly, if Vimes had ended up over there, Keith would have expected nothing short of the man stomping back, cigar in his mouth, all in time for six o'clock.
That was the other sign; no Sybil, no Young Sam, which pretty much clinched it. It made Keith feel a little bit better about the whole mess. Removing any part of that equation would have been heartbreaking. And he supposed Vimes might be glad for a break from paperwork, although in actuality he suspected wherever the man ended up -- hopefully home, that crazy city of his, on the crazier world -- that would follow him. Probably get worse, if he was back in a proper city. His proper city.
Well, those left behind could but hope, and clear up the paperwork on this end of things. As he did it, he had a sudden thought, and pulled open a lower drawer. The scotch was still there, and he took it out and looked at it speculatively. A glass in Vimes' honour?
It didn't seem entirely appropriate. Well then, he'd not drink it, in Vimes' honour. He clinked an empty glass against the bottle, held it up, and was pulling the drawer open to put it back when the door opened.
He'd looked, because Sam Vimes was not a man to avoid work, and he'd put out patrols, in case this was another one of those deceptive cases and he'd actually just ended up in dinosaur territory. But there was nothing to be found and, frankly, if Vimes had ended up over there, Keith would have expected nothing short of the man stomping back, cigar in his mouth, all in time for six o'clock.
That was the other sign; no Sybil, no Young Sam, which pretty much clinched it. It made Keith feel a little bit better about the whole mess. Removing any part of that equation would have been heartbreaking. And he supposed Vimes might be glad for a break from paperwork, although in actuality he suspected wherever the man ended up -- hopefully home, that crazy city of his, on the crazier world -- that would follow him. Probably get worse, if he was back in a proper city. His proper city.
Well, those left behind could but hope, and clear up the paperwork on this end of things. As he did it, he had a sudden thought, and pulled open a lower drawer. The scotch was still there, and he took it out and looked at it speculatively. A glass in Vimes' honour?
It didn't seem entirely appropriate. Well then, he'd not drink it, in Vimes' honour. He clinked an empty glass against the bottle, held it up, and was pulling the drawer open to put it back when the door opened.