A young man somewhere between 16 and 20, dressed in a plain white button-down shirt and khakis, with dark hair that's just a touch long flopping over his forehead, steps out into the street. Or more accurately, somebody who currently has such an appearance steps out into the street ( Read more... )

Good day, Xanadu. Prepare yourself for yet another what you see may not be what you get moment ( Read more... )

Sam Vimes had just wanted a walk.

A real walk, at that turning point between late night and early morning, when all the heat and most of the light had fled and anybody awake was automatically a suspicious figure. A real walk in real boots. He'd found a pair recently that were perfect, just the right size with soles so thin he'd probably have to ( Read more... )

Harvestman is looking much better then he normally does, clean shaven and in new, hole-free clothes. He also looks very off as he lounges in Agora and watching people pass through his bangs, a smile on his face that's much too straight to be genuine. He holds his shoulders wide and his legs spread out, making none of his usual attempts to look ( Read more... )

Naruse has disregarded the usual panic of finding himself in a new place. It was not that the shift in location, from Tokyo to Xanadu, was nothing short of alarming, but he was a man with a preference for control. Even the illusion of it, however fleeting, was enough to prompt him to exhibit an aura of confidence. He spent some time exploring, ( Read more... )

A door opens into Xanadu, and through it walks a somewhat scruffy man with sandy hair and a solid two day's worth of stubble-growth on him. The thin morning light that pours in behind him is tinted with the lingering crepuscular songs of birds and insects, and he yawns against the lull of it. The yawn keeps him distracted long enough to pull his ( Read more... )

Seems it’s moving day-they’d never settled on a precise date, but today Alan returns from the office to a hotel room marginally more bare and impersonal than the one he left that morning. Denny’s arranged everything, transforming (in typical Denny fashion) hours of back-wrenching labor into a vanishing act: now you see it, now you don’t. The place ( Read more... )

"I'm going round to Sarah Jane's, Mum!" Clyde backs out of a door into the street, bellowing back to someone through it, bag slung over his back and a skateboard under his arm. "I'll be back-- later ( Read more... )

Normally at about this time she would have been singing with her sisters and turning in their slow, stately dance. Her plans for the night had not included getting hit with a gaudy piece of jewelry and tumbling down the long miles to earth. Nor had they included an ankle that felt either sprained or broken. And they definitely didn’t add in ( Read more... )

Raylan Givens holds his whiskey better than to stumble out of a bar. He's not that drunk, truth be told. (Okay, maybe just a little drunk.) But the step he was expecting was not there. Of course, it turns out, a great many things he was expecting aren't there, once he looks around ( Read more... )