This chapter is quite a bit longer but I couldn't find a good cutting spot.

History

Sally tapped her pencil against her teeth in annoyance. She then made sure no one was watching before she quietly drew another pencil from her drawer and spat out the wooden pieces she'd inadvertently bitten. This round of paperwork was proving extra demanding. If she'd known filling out the report was going to be this complicated she'd have thrown Sniveler to the training recruits and flown (literally) to meet Angua on time.

The part pertaining to finding and detaining Teppic was pretty straightforward. It had been the walk back to the watch house that made everything go wahoonie-shaped. More specifically, it was the group of Differently Alive and Entirely Drunk that they encountered en route.

Most nights a flash of badge and tooth was all it took to move inebriates out of her path. And when she was with Angua? Most of them fled before even seeing the glint of . . .copper. Not this group though, oooooh no. They were so drunk and disorderly even Biers wouldn't put up with them so now they were out in the streets raising three kinds of hell and at least a few mushrooms.

Angua had admonished them to keep moving and go lower the living somewhere a bit more private. This had elicited a few hoots from the banshees, the zombie laughed and then had to pick up a tooth and the vampire let out a hissing sound that was something like a snicker. Even the ghoul grinned.

"Perhaps you'd care to join us?" the vampire swept up beside the watch captain. It was one thing to be so drunk you couldn't stand still without swaying side to side – which he was - it was entirely another to be so drunk that it seemed like a good idea to invade Angua Von Uberwald's personal space. That was the ultimate definition of dead drunk.

"I have my singers for entertainment," the vampire continued, gesturing to the banshees, "My butler is a bit green; as you can see," the zombie laughed again but this time held a hand in front of his mouth, "And I have a very practiced chef," the ghoul hadn't stopped grinning, "Now all I really need is a nice companion. Tell me, do you fetch?"

"Only bones." Angua's reply was perfect deadpan. It was enough to signal the simmering anger underneath without betraying any loss of control. No, when the beautiful blonde ripped their limbs from their bodies and tore through undead flesh like cheap latrine paper she would be fully in control of herself.

"No companions for you here. Best continue your search elsewhere. After a good day's rest I should think." Sally interceded to urge the party along before Angua's perfect control manifested itself.

"Fine, fine, we'll move along," the zombie finally spoke up and pulled his fanged friend away, "But how about you give us a quick bite first?"

"Excuse me?" Sally felt herself slip into the same controlled calm Angua already occupied.

"Just a quick one. I promise I won't scream – unless you like that." The horrible sucking noise that followed would be forever echoing in Sally's mind. She'd never seen or heard a zombie try to blow a kiss before.

She was so distracted by the horrific attempt that she didn't notice the rustle of offended silk beside her. They'd almost forgotten about Teppic.

The report, as she'd decided to summarize it ran thusly:

1. 1) The Apprehended Trespasser then escaped captivity.

2. 2) An assault was perpetrated against the Disorderly Parties

3. 3) The Aforementioned Disorderly eluded capture because of fleeing at great speed all in separate directions.

4. 4) Before the Escaped Trespasser could be caught he voluntarily surrendered back into custody.

5. 5) The Disorderly Parties are not currently pressing charges. However, the evidence locker will hold 27 teeth, 3 fingers and 1 bag of ash until such time as the banshees recover their voices.

Angua and Sally had given chase to Teppic but he met them halfway back, offering both his hands for cuffing and not even slightly apologetic that his fists were full of rather organic trophies.

"I'm sorry. I realize that was not very appropriate of me." He watched Sally's irritated face closely as she put the irons on. She wasn't sure what annoyed her more; the fact that a suspect had escaped her possession, that he'd apparently escaped to avenge her honor or that she hadn't had a chance to stuff the zombie's words back down his throat along with his lips.

"No, it wasn't." She confirmed and squeezed the cuffs closed a little tighter than necessary. She released his wrists but he caught one of her hands. She went to yank away but the signal was lost somewhere between her brain and her arm.

"I promise next time I'll let you go first." He winked, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand for just a moment before releasing hold.

The touch had been infuriating. It was overly familiar, presumptuous, laden with innuendo and despite all that she'd enjoyed it a bit too much for her own comfort. She'd felt an almost instantaneous need for lukewarm cocoa and mediocre platitudes. Sally eyed the beetroot that rested on the corner of her desk. She knew the canteen kept a crate of the things on hand in case of emergency. She liked to have one nearby as a constant warning to not give into the clichéd urges. Few things were as embarrassing as going all bloodshot and seductive only to wake up in a lace corset (it never mattered what a vampire female was wearing before having an episode, she ALWAYS ended up in a lace corset) with three fellow watchmen holding you down and shoving beetroot between elongated fangs..

At this moment a bite of hard purple/red flesh was looking damned good. Particularly since Teppic was just 15 feet away, sitting on Angua's desk and regaling the watch officers with recent exploits. It seemed most of the watch was familiar with the assassin. They'd greeted his arrival in irons like the return of a long-lost deviant cousin. Not too far a stretch since most of the Watch were deviants themselves in some form. Case in point: the officer sitting at the desk across from her.

"So how does Angua know a silkworm?" Sally asked, grateful for the natural nonchalance that always oozed off her kind. Vampires breathed indifference (since they actually didn't have to breathe at all).

"What," Nobby looked up at her then followed her gaze to the small but boisterous group, "Oh – Silent P? He isn't really one of them. He looks the part and pays his dues and such but he's never done a contract. Not for the guild, anyways. Done some fine work for other people though, useful guy to have around. He's done jobs for the Watch time to time."

"He contracts for the Watch? Commander Vimes hates assassins!"

"He hates vampires too. Doesn't stop him using people with skills. He got on the Commander's good side right fast too. You remember that business with Chrysoprase's warehouse on the docks – oh, right. You weren't around then. It was a couple years ago while you were lazing up in Bonk."

"Liaising, Nobby." She seldom bothered to correct him anymore.

"'Swhat I said. Anyways we get a tip that there's a storehouse of Slice down on the docks but before we can bust in to grab it old Slant jumps in with enough paperwork to bury us up to our buttonholes," Nobby had a way of inventing euphemisms that sounded more offensive than the real thing, "So we're stuck a hundred feet away while Pessimal tries to shovel all the papers back onto the manure cart they rode in on and Vimes is furious, right? Just fit to make Slant a fortune off the tooth fairies, see. Then it dawns on him we had the solution all along, a smuggler and his business partner were sleeping one off down in the cells until we could find some evidence to make stick."

"Naturally." Sally nodded. It was a deeply held tradition in the Watch to know everyone was guilty of something and not let them go until you found out what. Detritus was particularly adept at eliciting confessions. Not the way most people think – he never raised a fist. But sitting in an interrogation room with the Troll while he tried to fill out his reports could move the most stalwart innocents to suddenly remember wrongdoings long passed. For the stubborn cases he brought his lunch in with him.

"Vimes goes over the papers on the lads and tells me the one to fetch: our friend in black, ol' Silent P."

"Wait, Nobby," it was going to drive her crazy if she didn't ask, "Why do you call him that?"

"What?" Nobby had to interrupt his narrative train of thought, "Cause it's his name."

"He said so?"

"Sure he did! I go down to the cells, bang the bars to rouse the souses and reads the name right like it's printed, 'Pteppic,' I says, 'I need the one of you called Pteppic.' And there's no response for a sec and then the one dressed like a shadow's boyfriend just sort of barely moves and says, 'Silent Pee.' Course, I say 'what?' but I'm thinking to myself 'Is it now?' Mine ain't usually. Specially after a night's patrol in the fancy parts of town where you can't grab a quick slash against the wall for fear of some nob getting uppity. And after that time what I drank the new asparagus beer down at the Drum? I tell you –,"

"I get it, Nobby." Sally quickly stopped him. Nobby's fascination with his own bodily functions could be an hour-long tangent if not swiftly halted. It was hard enough to follow him through his reckless scattering of quotation marks.

"Huh? Oh, right. He gets to his feet, swaying a bit mind you, and looks at me and says 'My name is Teppic. Silent P, Teppic.' Real firm. That's who he's been ever since."

"Makes perfect sense." Sally could only agree weakly. The man had brought it on himself, really.

"I hustle him off to Vimes and it's not 20 minutes later that our black clad lad has been overcome with feelings of civic obligation. He hauls his smuggling friend off on his back and the two did gods know what or how but come next morning when we had the warrants to pry the doors off the warehouse? The whole place was empty and no one was more shocked and upset than old Chrysoprase himself." Nobby wiped his hands together in finality before leaning back with a triumphant grin, perhaps congratulating himself on actually getting all the way to the end of the story.

"The Commander always has his surprises." Sally observed thoughtfully.

It was pretty neat; everyone knew the docks were laced with enough sewer tunnels and secret passages that you could get from ship to the taverns without seeing daylight so long as you didn't mind seeing things much worse. No one would know the routes better than a smuggler. The warehouse would've been rigged with plenty of traps as well – the Breccia could be horrifyingly brilliant in their creative ways of preventing theft (most involved wall murals of vivid colors that you never wanted to inspect too close) – but an assassin would be perfect for working around any surprising trip wires or caltrops. It was all . . .convenient.

A round of laughter from the other side of the room pulled her attention away from her suspicious musings. Teppic was smiling patiently as his audience recovered so he could continue whatever whopper of a tale he was spinning. He looks like that painting at the museum, the gods on Cori Celesti. The thought slipped through her mind like a shark fin in placid water. Not that he looks god like! He just – it, like holding court. Yes. That's it. He looks like a figure of authority. That's all. Or maybe like one of those orgy gods surrounded by naked women and urns? She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to drive away the mental image. The last thing she needed in her mind right now was Constables Haddock, Fiddyment and Ping as naked nymphs, grapes or not.

Fifteen feet away:

"As you must know, it's upsetting enough to think you have the fastest ship on the Cricle Sea only to find another vessel catching you. It's much, much worse to realize it's a pirate ship and you're currently smuggling a hold full of Ephebian pottery and maths books," Teppic paused, watching his audience lean forward in anticipation, "Now, take that and multiply it by about a thousand and you'll know how Chidder felt when he realized the pirate captain was a woman he'd spent the evening with some months before. Apparently he cut out in the early hours of dawn, taking her purse and weapons but not the pub bill."

There was a round of chuckles and ribald noises of appreciation as his audience drew their own mental pictures – some of them in stick figures.

"But, angry as she might have been over what Chiddertook, I think she was a bit more upset over what he left behind."

"Oh, left a little reminder did he?" one of the watchmen grinned. The fact that he was actually she – a dwarf from Poleaxe Road – didn't change the leering reactions of her comrades.

"Probably a case a crustaceans!" another constable offered.

"Crustaceans?" Teppic repeated in surprise, "No, I think she would've been quite at peace with that. After all, they don't stay in your body for months and your life for decades."

"No!"

"He didn't!""

"Well, they could if not treated properly." There was always someone not quite following the conversation close enough.

"Anyway, she allowed us escort back here to Ankh-Morpork and the last I saw of Chidder he was being hauled to her vessel fully bound and gagged.I couldn't presume to say whether he was an unwilling participant. That, Captain Angua, is why I was delayed coming back to the city."

"You have a story for everything, Teppic." Angua shook her head with a small smile. For years the former king had been spinning tales for everyone. They started with pyramids and undead and genius camels and just built from there. He was his own mythology. Which – given his bloodline – might have been inevitable.

"I must say, I would've hurried back far sooner if I knew you'd upgraded patrol partners so drastically." Teppic smiled, allowing his eyes to slide in the direction of Sally's desk. The vampire was hunched over her paperwork like she might strangle answers out of the ink with her fingers.

"You heartbreaker. How would Cheery feel if she heard you say that?" Angua crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. The other watchmen had begun to wander away to their own duties now that story time was over.

"Ah, the petite genius. She was quite fun. I've never known someone who played quite her version of 20 Questions," Teppic hesitated as he remembered vials being waved under his blind-folded face, "But your new fanged friend is an entirely different specimen. She's lovely, deadly and by my observation deeply disturbed. How could any man resist?"

"You're not any man, Teppic." Angua reminded him, following his gaze to the pale brunette across the room. Disturbed? Well, weren't all the undead? All coppers to, come to that.

"Which just means I have a better chance than most. You really must arrange an introduction for us."

"You met her hours ago when she tackled you into the Palace's south wall."

"That was delightful," Tepic acknowledged with an ungodly glint in his eyes, "But a personal endorsement might be to my advantage."

"I'll try to think of one while you're in your cell." Angua shook her head and rose to escort Teppic to the jail cells below.

"Must we really go through with this charade?" he sighed but stood as well, using his best wounded puppy eyes. He hadn't yet worked out that the look never affected a werewolf.

"You attempted escape, Teppic. You're detained until the Commander comes in for morning reports and hears what you have to say."

"Oh, very well. No good deed etcetera etcetera." Puppy eyes vanished back into the tired dignity that fit him like his tailored silk. He was all too familiar with the routine.

"Don't take it so hard. I think the boys found your black pillow and silk sheets."

"I'll certainly have sweet dreams." Teppic said quietly with a smirk, his gaze going straight past Angua. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and knew Sally had both heard the comment and caught the look. The blonde quickly pushed Teppic through the door to the cells below. She only cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Sally sinking her teeth into crimson beetroot.