Reviews, Recipes, and Random Slices of Life

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Quincy stared into his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He had cleaned off the worst of the filth he'd acquired in the ragman's lair. His trousers would never recover, he feared. He glanced at the stains and his mind automatically tallied the cost for a new pair of trousers. He sighed and returned his gaze to the mirror. His face was gray, and it was not merely from the faint shadowed remnants of grime. He was tired.

He was bone-weary, tired of giving promises he didn't know if he could keep, and tired of distrusting every word he was told. He ran damp fingers through his hair. The light from the gaslamp caught every gray strand. The ring on his finger weighed heavily.

Throwing back his shoulders, he straightened and assessed himself coldly in the mirror. No, he thought. He rounded his shoulders slightly and allowed some of his weariness to show. He softened his gaze. That was better. He had been forced to leave his harmless manner when interviewing the ragman, but from what he understood, the homechulus housekeeper had a better grasp of societal niceties. It might respond better to the same manner he was used to using when trying to interview witnesses or suspects.

Not that a homechulus could really be a suspect in this-- He paused. Or could it? Finally, he shook his head and then crossed the carpet and opened the door to the powder room. The faintly perfumed air of the powder room ran tiny fingers along his neck.

penthius

• 14:23 Put hair up in 2 twists again today. Becoming fond of this. Am also excessively cute! Makes me want to do cartwheels of victorious cuteness.
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• 20:20 New Shadow Unit! 1/2 mystery, 1/4 horror, 1/4 SF, 100% your daily allowance of awesome. Serial fiction. *shadowunit.org