Kiernan leans forward. I’m guessing that’s because you make it work, Mr. Houdini. Maybe that’s how you manage . . . He pauses when my kick lands on his shin, but finishes the sentence anyway. . . . s...
I toss the formal dress from 1905 onto the chair next to him. He glances up, removing the headphones. Did you decide to do a bit of shopping in London? I give him a wry smile. Does this look like some...
I don’t know anything for certain. You and I could both explode in the next two seconds. Or the swimming pool over there could have a clone of the Loch Ness monster swimmin’ about on the bottom, ready...
He pushes his chair back and goes to the kitchen. Are you hungry? Yes. I’m thinking Kentucky Fried Rooster. There’s another chorus of cock-a-doodle-doo just as I finish speaking, and he laughs. Henry’...
And don’t get all pissy if they laugh at you. Why should I take it personally? I didn’t pick this costume, so they’ll be laughing at you, not me. A faint ghost of his old grin surfaces, but disappears...
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