[CW: It's crime noir and there's murder jokes right from the get-go.]
The sun was beginning to set. Rancid yellows twisted through raw pink clouds, Britain’s vague threat of rain forever lingering just out the corner of his eye. He ‘itched’ the corner of his brown mustache, testing that the edges could survive a quick douse. The glue smell was not so obvious at a polite distance, the glasses were thankfully merely glass, and he skipped any ink in the hair today. He was bound to be in close quarters with a potentially alert, violent fellow.
Well, violent at least. Why this robber chose to steal some apartment-dweller’s paste jewelry set when the copper pans were worth more still boggled him.
With a plane wooden cane in his gloved hand, Aslan thumbed over the knife in his pocket and brought his left hand out of a plain tan suit pocket to knock on the cobbler’s door.
Just in case he were to greet his death here, he did hope he could make it awfully inconvenient on his way down.
Thunder struck, and the grotesquely colored sky darkened belatedly as though it were a lady tripping and hefting up her skirts only after the stumble. He cast a withering look over his shoulder as one drop, then two, then ten began to hit pavement and hat.
The sun was beginning to set. Rancid yellows twisted through raw pink clouds, Britain’s vague threat of rain forever lingering just out the corner of his eye. He ‘itched’ the corner of his brown mustache, testing that the edges could survive a quick douse. The glue smell was not so obvious at a polite distance, the glasses were thankfully merely glass, and he skipped any ink in the hair today. He was bound to be in close quarters with a potentially alert, violent fellow.
Well, violent at least. Why this robber chose to steal some apartment-dweller’s paste jewelry set when the copper pans were worth more still boggled him.
With a plane wooden cane in his gloved hand, Aslan thumbed over the knife in his pocket and brought his left hand out of a plain tan suit pocket to knock on the cobbler’s door.
Just in case he were to greet his death here, he did hope he could make it awfully inconvenient on his way down.
Thunder struck, and the grotesquely colored sky darkened belatedly as though it were a lady tripping and hefting up her skirts only after the stumble. He cast a withering look over his shoulder as one drop, then two, then ten began to hit pavement and hat.
