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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.
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fortheliving
fortheliving
Mouse is proffered! He growls very quietly, but does not explode into barking.
no-return
"Hi, tiny magic puppy! Your name's Mouse, huh? That's pretty cute."
He tentatively tries to pet the tiny magic puppy.
He tentatively tries to pet the tiny magic puppy.
fortheliving
Mouse seizes his finger and begins industriously gnawing on it! While glowing. And barking.
"HEY! Bad!"
"HEY! Bad!"
no-return
"Ow," he says, giggling and pulling his hand away. "Okay, tiny magic puppy still doesn't like me, got it."
fortheliving
"Are you alr- well, that's a stupid question. I'm sorry. For the fact that he doesn't like you, if nothing else."
no-return
"Aww. I'm fine. But do you still wanna offer me your spare room even though I piss off your magic puppy?"
fortheliving
"Oh, no, the puppy has a veto on any housing decisions. He's a wonderful judge of character, you see, and he explains his opinions so well."
fortheliving
"So, Captain, do you want to see the apartment and maybe move your stuff in, or should it wait?"
no-return
He grins.
"It's really adorable when you call me Captain," he says. "I'm not sure I'm actually going to use it with anybody else, but it's really adorable. I wanna hug you again. I wanna get a huge cozy sweater or something so I can hug you again without the thing happening."
"It's really adorable when you call me Captain," he says. "I'm not sure I'm actually going to use it with anybody else, but it's really adorable. I wanna hug you again. I wanna get a huge cozy sweater or something so I can hug you again without the thing happening."
fortheliving
"Huh. Do you want me to try to figure out a name you can use with other folks too, then? I'll give you as many names as you like, I've got reserves. And I believe I can get you a fluffy sweater from my friend the Fist of God."
no-return
"Yeah, sure! You have a friend called the Fist of God? Did you come up with that, or did somebody else?"
fortheliving
"No, I usually come up with names a bit less... hm, official. As far as I can tell that's a job description from the archangel Michael himself. My nicknames are more like... Blanche. How's Blanche? Ah've always relied on the kindness of strangers..."
Harry's southern accent is an abomination in no uncertain terms.
Harry's southern accent is an abomination in no uncertain terms.
no-return
"That's adorable! You're adorable! I'm not sure I'm keeping it, but man, do I ever want that fuzzy sweater now."
fortheliving
"I'll keep trying, just you wait and see. By tonight I'll have a list on legal paper. Oh, uh- what's your situation with regard to... technology? In general? Like, do you have a phone or a computer or anything like that?"
no-return
"I have these clothes," he says, gesturing to himself. "That's pretty much it. I don't accumulate, like, stuff very much."
fortheliving
"Good, because around me tech tends to, uh, go wrong. I've seen a PC tower burst into flames at fifteen paces. Rather not have that become a repeat incident."
fortheliving
"It kind of was, I guess. Except for the part where I had to pay to replace Murphy's computer. You'd like Murphy, I think, she's very likable if she doesn't peg you as criminal scum. She's tiny and policey and she broke my arm this one time."
no-return
"I'm sorry she broke your arm! But you're right, that totally makes her sound like I'd like her."
fortheliving
"Don't worry, I deserved it. I'll see about introducing you. So, do you want to go back to the apartment?"
fortheliving
Harry leads him back to what could charitably be described as a "vintage" Volkswagon Beetle, and could be uncharitably described as an absolute wreck. "This is the Blue Beetle. It does its best."
fortheliving
"The Blue Beetle is not 'cute!' It is a valiant warrior in the battle against fuel efficiency." Harry gets into the driver's seat and, after some effort, pops the passenger-side door.