Terry owns, not me. I just fangirl.

--

Head still ringing from where she'd boxed his ears, trying to catch his breath while wincing from the pain of a very bruised solar plexus, Jonathan Teatime realized that a strategic retreat was in order, before she came back with a poker, as she'd threatened.

He hadn't expected her to react so…violently. Yell, maybe, perhaps even attempt to slap him. But boxing his ears? He hadn't predicted that. It was his luck that as she tried to knee him in the groin, he was already collapsing to his knees in pain, so her rather hard knee had come in contact with his solar plexus instead. Cursing him with language he hadn't expected a woman of her breeding to use, she had gathered her parcels and made the firm threat that if he was still there when she came back, she'd shove a poker through his chest…again.

Assassins didn't run. But strategic retreating, certainly. So he retired to his flat, the top floor of a rather old house run by Mrs. Lin, who lived in the basement and didn't ask questions so long as you didn't make too much noise and paid your rent on time, and, unique among most people, she actually pronounced his name correctly, leading him to view her with something, while not akin to actually liking her, a feeling that would make him think twice about killing her, certainly.

"See you got your eye back. Good." There was a woman sitting on his bed. A short, dark-clad woman was sitting on his bed.

"Who are you?"

"Vegnencia. Nencia to my friends, which you currently aren't. I'm your handler."

"I don't need a handler." He drew his knife, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying through the air to land straight in her chest…or it should have. Instead, it passed through her and into the wall.

Vegnencia looked at the knife sticking out of the wall. "Figured you'd try that. It doesn't work on me. Nothing does." She removed the knife and handed it back to him. "'Ere." She sighed. "You know, Jenna, she figured you'd do sommat like this. " She got up. "C'mon, Teacup."

"It's Te-ah-ti-may," he said, glaring, but he followed her, plotting ways to succeed where the knife hadn't.

"And I don't give a rat's arse. One of the conditions of your employment by her is that you listen to me. I don't like this any more than you do." She stopped at a tobacconist's. "One packet of Vox Diabolicas."

"Ninepence, miss."

Vegnencia handed over the money and took the cigarettes, pulling one out of the carton. Glaring at the end, it started to smoulder and she inhaled deeply. There was a strong smell of sulphur. "N'matter how 

ye do it, trying to kill me doesn' work. I pop right back into existence, no matter what anyone does. It's a side effect of being cursed by the creator. I do this until the end of all things. Tried ending myself...poison, elements, a bomb to the heart...it hurts like hell, 's about it." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "They call these things a slow suicide, y'know?" She laughed bitterly. "I'd give my left tit for a quick one that worked." She slowed to a stop in front of a door which looked no different than any of the others, and waited for Teatime to notice.

"What is this place?"

"Biers. It's a bar."

"Is this part of what Jenna asked you to do?"

"Not specifically, but I have my reasons."

Teatime looked quizzically at her.

"Reason number one, I need a drink. Number two, consider it an exercise in people-watching. And number three, I need a drink. You're not the type I want to deal with while sober. Now come in, follow my lead, and don't make eye contact."

--

After what she'd seen, Susan needed a drink. She was lucky: tonight was her night off, and so, she headed to Biers. Within moments of her sitting down, however, she was joined by Angua and Cheri. The three had formed a sort of friendship, mainly through the odd evening of sitting together, drinking and not saying much.

"You're hitting the drink harder than usual tonight," Angua commented, bringing over another round of beverages. "Rough time with the children?"

Susan snorted. "Hardly. Just something…someone…I thought I'd taken care of…"

"And they show up again and life goes wahooni-shaped?" Cheri asked.

Susan nodded, and the other women didn't say anything else. Everyone had times like that, and quiet camaraderie was usually the best bet.

--

"A pint of Shoggoth's for me, Igor," Vegnencia said, sidling up to the bar. She glared at Teatime.

"Wine for me."

Teatime sat, sipping his wine, and looked around. A flash of white hair with a black streak. Their eyes met across the semi-crowded bar, and he grinned. This was going to be –fun-.

--



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