He heard the whispers as he slipped up the stairwell, heard the murmurings of the law fall in his wake. But he didn't acknowledge them for one reason or another and stuck to what he knew best; he played dumb, played deaf and no one bothered him. Vimes had silenced whatever uproar there would have been and Portgas was thankful of the favor
( ... )
The whiskey was untouched. Would remain that way forever. Even this wouldn't drive Vimes to drink, the man just had too much self mastery, too much willpower. He kept his chin in his palm, watched Ace enter, bury his head in his hat--that got a faint smile out of Vimes, brief and small at the kid's antics.
And what a way to start a conversation. Like some eight year old confessing to breaking the window while playing baseball. Vimes sighed, leaned slowly back in his chair.
"That's a helluva way to say hello." The older man rumbled tiredly. "Sit down." He didn't gesture to one of the chairs, just watched Ace quietly. "For the moment we aren't on record, Ace. So if you've got any more you want to add, feel free because I am all ears. If not we'll call you a lawyer and get on with things."
He felt old. Older then he was. And very very tired.
Vimes closed his eyes briefly. He fished in his pocket, brought out his pack of smokes and took out a cigarette, looking across the room at Ace and the kid's horrible empty smile. It was breaking his heart and he honestly hadn't thought, after all these years on the job, that an expression like that could be so devastating. Damn fucking kids and their damn way of being so damn endearing that he started to like them.
"I shouldn't let you walk out of here." Vimes pointed out wearily. "But we'll get to that in a bit. Your girls should be fine, but I'll keep an eye on them. You came here to say some things, so say them." He paused, glanced at his cigarette. "And give me a light." There was a touch of humor behind the quiet tiredness.
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And what a way to start a conversation. Like some eight year old confessing to breaking the window while playing baseball. Vimes sighed, leaned slowly back in his chair.
"That's a helluva way to say hello." The older man rumbled tiredly. "Sit down." He didn't gesture to one of the chairs, just watched Ace quietly. "For the moment we aren't on record, Ace. So if you've got any more you want to add, feel free because I am all ears. If not we'll call you a lawyer and get on with things."
He felt old. Older then he was. And very very tired.
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"I shouldn't let you walk out of here." Vimes pointed out wearily. "But we'll get to that in a bit. Your girls should be fine, but I'll keep an eye on them. You came here to say some things, so say them." He paused, glanced at his cigarette. "And give me a light." There was a touch of humor behind the quiet tiredness.
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