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Harry is really, really glad he didn't go into some depressive fit thing after Susan... you know.
He considered it. It was very tempting. But in the end... what good would it have done? Susan wouldn't want him to do it. Hell, if she'd popped out of the woodwork and he hadn't left the house in four months she'd probably have slapped him. So he forced himself to get his boots on every day and do his damn job. He found lost things. He worked on improving a few of his foci and enchanted objects and stuff. Cries most nights, but doesn't admit it, and that's been getting better. Recently he took a job protecting some kind of monastery from monkey demons.
A factor relevant to that particular job is currently napping in his coat pocket. He found the puppy there afterwards and tried to call that monk dude, but the monastery seemed to have vanished. Which was weird. But he got the puppy vetted by Bob and Father Forthill, and they said the little guy wasn't some kind of hellspawn, so... he kept him. Called him Mouse. Let him nap in his coat pocket. Mister got along with him, because Mouse wasn't big enough to be a threat to the big cat's authority.
Anyway, Mouse is napping in his coat pocket, and Harry just got out of the morgue looking at a corpse. He's pretty sure this is the work of some White Court bastard. The victim doesn't have a mark on him, but he's got the dopiest grin in human history. And Harry, being Harry, knows from dopey grins. So Harry sets out looking for a White Court vampire. Thomas doesn't know of any of his cousins who'd have gone after this guy (their official victims are dumped in a nearby quarry, apparently), so he's out investigating the red light district. And trying to look like someone who would be interested in a prostitute, instead of someone who would rather cut off his testicles with a spoon than lay a finger on a member of the oldest profession.
doing-the-right-thing
doing-the-right-thing
"How it came-"
Harry starts blushing furiously.
"!", he says, in an extremely manly squeaking noise.
no-return
"Please don't have a heart attack from sheer embarrassment, I like you and I don't want you to die."
doing-the-right-thing
"!"
Harry keeps his eyes trained on the road with a near-religious conviction. He is unlikely to stop blushing any time soon.
no-return
That's okay. The blushing is adorable. Buttercup derives immense enjoyment from the blushing.
doing-the-right-thing
Eventually Harry starts breathing again. "Uh. Sorry about. Freezing up like that. You're, uh, very pretty, but I wouldn't be... 'as you wish'ing about it yet."
doing-the-right-thing
"Not as such. People don't generally use words like 'adorable' about seven-foot-tall homeless-looking men with big sticks. It's the strangest thing."
doing-the-right-thing
"Feel free to spread the good news. Maybe you'll get people to stop calling the cops on me when I'm trying to save them from horrible monsters."
doing-the-right-thing
"More than I'd like. I mean, it's understandable, I guess. Enormous man shouts 'Fairies are attacking! Get down!' and starts shooting things, there's some natural assumptions there. But it'd be nice to get the benefit of the doubt."
doing-the-right-thing
"I have tried that! I'm, uh, not very good at lying outright. I mean, I could lead with 'look out, he's got a gun!' but that doesn't exactly lead to fewer cops being called. And half the time they think I'm the one I'm talking about."
doing-the-right-thing
"You know, I might consider it. How are you at killing things? Because that's also part of the job."
doing-the-right-thing
"Well, there's an opening in my 'punching monsters and lying to cops' department if you want it. Pay would probably be kind of anemic, but you get to save people's lives and all."
doing-the-right-thing
"I'll test run you sometime, maybe next time there's a ghost infestation in O'Hare and I have to carry a bag of depleted uranium and iron filings through airport security. Trial by fire and all."
doing-the-right-thing
"Oh yeah. Cavity searches, a thrilling adventure. I ended up getting my ass saved by the poltergeist manifesting and needing to be slain. The TSA guy apologized afterwards, I gave him some of my ghost dust in case another one showed up. That's the depleted uranium, it helps with the killing of ghosts."