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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 01:08:55 UTC


Someone is walking down the path with his hands tucked in his pockets, smoking a pipe.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 15:42:38 UTC
All right, now he is speculating about something other than sex; to wit, he is analyzing Harry's eating habits.

...Harry's very familiar eating habits.

Holmes is beginning to regret being such a nuisance when they first met. It's a little late for sympathy by now.

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 15:47:32 UTC
Harry tosses a piece of toast out into the lake.

And promptly drops his coffee all over himself when what appears to be an enormous tentacle flicks up out of the water, grabs the toast, and drags it below.

"Jesus . . . !"

It's the strongest emotion unrelated to despair or anger that he's shown - or felt - in days.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 16:07:28 UTC


"Good heavens."

Yeah, Holmes is a little startled, too. Theorizing about the presence of a large creature inhabiting the lake is very different from seeing an actual tentacle.

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 16:11:40 UTC
"What - what - ?"

Whoever saw fit to mention the demon rabbits to Harry skipped over the giant squid.

He shoves the plate of toast further back from the lake (and, coincidentally, toward Holmes). Just in case.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 16:15:01 UTC
"I believe we have just made the acquaintance of the giant squid."

His poor neglected pipe has gone out. He considers relighting it and decides not to bother. For the moment, Harry and the squid are more interesting.

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 16:16:43 UTC
"The - ? Of course, the giant squid, what else?"

Fucking Milliways.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 16:28:27 UTC
"I am given to understand that it is not hostile, at least."

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 16:33:52 UTC
"Oh good, not hostile, you know, that's my favorite kind of giant squid."

Can't a guy mope in peace? Now even if Holmes does fuck off, the giant squid will be there. It may not surface again, but Harry will still know.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 16:36:31 UTC
"Better than the hostile kind, I assure you."

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 16:40:29 UTC
"Yeah, well, that's my second favorite kind," Harry mutters.

He looks down at his shirt, becoming aware of the fact that the coffee-drenched patch on the front is rapidly turning cold as well as now being wet.

Naturally, the shirt is white.

"Fuck."

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 16:54:20 UTC
"That's going to stain," Holmes advises him. "If you don't mind joining me in the grand tradition of borrowing Tony Stark's clothes, I can arrange a replacement."

The difference here between borrowing and stealing is, of course, that Holmes would return them if Stark asked for them back.

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 16:58:37 UTC
It is going to stain, and Perry's not going to be impressed that Harry managed to stain his shirt before he could even get into the fucking living room.

On the other hand, Harry learned after his first lengthy visit that Perry had known about Milliways for years, so at least he won't have to try and make something up.

"Yeah. Okay." Harry gets up, grimacing as the shirt clings clammily to his chest and leaving plate and mug where they are. Bar can fucking put them on his tab, he doesn't even care.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 17:06:42 UTC
Maintaining a decorous distance, he turns to lead Harry back into the bar.

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invented_dice August 23 2010, 17:09:10 UTC
Harry follows, holding the front of his shirt between two fingers to keep it up and away from his skin.

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noshitgreg August 23 2010, 17:31:02 UTC
It occurs to Holmes that if Stark is watching, he might get entirely the wrong idea.

Luckily, after a quick scan of Stark's usual tables, that does not appear to be the case. Any other observers are free to reach whatever salacious conclusions they please, but Holmes would rather Stark not think so little of him. He would hardly take advantage of a man in such a state, no matter how strong the temptation.

Up the stairs to 390 they go. Holmes estimates the probability of Stark being in the room just now as somewhere south of five percent.

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