Combat baby, come back baby. Fight off the lethargy--don’t go quietly.

[whateverthemess]

Karrin Murphy is at a coffee shop near the Empress Theater. She has a stack of books in front of her--a number of them on mythology, with titles like The Myth of the Male Divine and Mythical Trickster Figures. The rest are case studies on organized teenage violence and books about the mythos of the Christian biblical angel. Murphy rubs her eyes.

Comments

[nothingsodivine]

Des wanders into the coffee shop with a purpose. Reliable sources, being the good people of the Empress Theater have informed him of the places where Ms. Karrin Murphy likes to haunt, so he's decided to stop on by to inform her that, in between the whole holy fuck, I'm getting married thing, he still hasn't found diddly-shit about Harry.

"...Heavy reading," he notes, coming up behind Murphy's table and glancing at the top cover of the first book on the pile.

[whateverthemess]

She looks up, surprise reflected in her face and voice. "Hey. Yeah, I uh." She looks down at the page she's on and shoves the book in front of her aside. "Yeah. Oh--congratulations. I meant to drop you a note, but..."

She trails off and bites her lip. How is she supposed to tell him that Harry's here, another Harry? He has things enough to work on right now.

[nothingsodivine]

"Chicago," Des supplies for her. "It happens to the best of us." He flops down in the chair across from her, because when does Des ask to do anything, most of the time?

"So I haven't turned up anything on Dresden. His room at the Gauche is still intact. There's months worth of dust on everything. I had to pick the lock, so he was out when whatever got him... Got him, be it Rift or... Somethin' else."

He picks up the book on Biblical angels and flips through it. It almost makes him homesick.

[whateverthemess]

She clears her throat. "Someone. Gave me an interesting hypothesis about what might have happened. They think Harry might have been trying to open a doorway back to his--our--world. Like the Prophet did when he brought me here."

Murphy taps the end of her pen against The Myth of the Male Divine. "Do you think it might've worked, if that's what he was doing?"

[bythatmuch]

Max screams.

He's still jumpy from that monster thing a few weeks ago, and Tomei's sudden entrance was just enough to freak him the hell out.

"AHHHHHWHATTHE-"

Oh, wait a second. Max knows that guy! He relaxes a little, then squints at the fireplace. "Tomei?"

[marchforthedead]

Tomei yells back, though it's less a scream than a Deep and Manly Waaaugh of surprise. He twists around to gape at Max.

"Ah... Hello." He still has no idea what he's doing in the common room fireplace. He struggles out of it, grabbing on to the lintel to help himself upright.

[bythatmuch]

Part of Max's brain gives him an image of Tomei in a Santa suit.

It's not Christmas, Max.

"Are you okay? How far did you-" His eyes trail up the wall. The chimney must go up the entire building. How is Tomei not dead?

...maybe he's a zombie.

Cue the wary look.

[marchforthedead]

"I don't know." He peers up the chimney. "I was in the gym. Not up there."

When Tomei sees the look on Max's face, he eyeballs the man with much the same expression. "What?"