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[averagejoesolomon]

WELCOME TO THE KIDS. God, we are not ready for this installment, I'm so serious. Matt and Rachel are going to kill us all. To say nothing of the upcoming spycraft and general ass-kickery. Thank you for reading this with me. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle in full on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Before Matt boards a plane to New York, he pastes an OTS-issued mustache to his upper lip and switches the passports in his backpack.

There are no direct flights from Washington DC to Moscow. The reasons for this span far and wide, but the most significant factor also happens to be the simplest—sheer distance. At nearly five-thousand miles as the crow flies, there ain’t a whole lot of civilian aircraft that can make the flight in one go, to say nothing of the fact that neither country is especially amicable to the idea of direct contact. As part of a global effort to reduce the friction between two nuclear superpowers, Morocco offers up its services as the geographical and political buffer between the two destinations, its liminal and atmospheric nightlife acting as the ideal backdrop for the world’s transfers, layovers, and delays.

The trip usually takes eighteen hours if flown straight through, but the gin joints can eat into a full day if given the chance. For his part, Matt’s latest trip takes thirty-seven hours.

But he can’t blame the bars this time around because he doesn’t stop in Morocco, and hasn’t since he picked up a Soviet tail in the CMN terminal last spring. For every US intelligence agent flying through Casablanca, there are five Russian officers waiting on the ground with direct orders to identify and apprehend incoming westerners. The behavior has become too predictable. The Soviets have become too prominent. As Joe puts it: an agent in Morocco is an agent in the grave.

So Matt begins with a trip to New York, then London, then Istanbul, where he switches passports again to fly to Dubai, so he can finally make his way up to Moscow. He survives off of complimentary peanuts and ginger ale, stopping only at the occasional newsstand for the latest local headlines and a fresh packet of M&Ms—one of the few candies sold consistently across international borders. Vigilant airport hours are balanced with the relative safety of the sky, and his only sleep happens alongside the low, rattling drone of jet engines in his ear.

By the time he lands in the Soviet Union, he’s already added a goatee and traded his honey blond hair for a bleached wig that more closely resembles his newly assumed Slavic heritage. After deboarding, he identifies the nearest bathroom to the gate and enters the last stall on the left. As instructed by his CO, he runs his fingers along the wall until he finds a ridge in the tile. He carefully peels back a damn near invisible panel, revealing the compartment Langley promised him. There’s a change of clothes. A pair of contacts. A note written on evapopaper: E ibvltn aely ldrm oor we uti I. The key to this particular skip code was already given to him in New York, which helps him decipher the message that a driver will meet him in Lot 2. Thank God he doesn’t need to hail a taxi.

He drops the note into the toilet bowl and watches it melt from the edges inward. After changing into the provided outfit, he silently shreds his old travel clothes to be discarded in various trash cans on his way to the parking lot. Finally, he pops both contacts in, replaces the panel, and flushes the toilet in case anyone is listening. When he approaches the sink to wash his hands, unfamiliar blue eyes blink back at him from where his own brown eyes ought to be.

Between the sporadic sleep and the changing time zones, he has no idea what the local time is, but the dark sky narrows his possibilities to either very late or very early. The weight of travel saturates every muscle, every joint, every step, but he can’t afford to turn off his senses and slip lazily into the night—not in Moscow. Never in Moscow. After five consecutive flights in less than two days, the hard part has only just begun.

The Soviet Union has always been dangerous to western agents, but the capital has only gotten more hostile in Matt’s time as an operative. Last summer alone, ten US informants were executed in the city, including two of Matt’s most reliable contacts. In the following winter, a handful of Russian specialists left Langley for a field mission and didn’t come home. The last time Matt was here, he met with a Circle informant named Omar who offered to talk in exchange for medication not available in Russia, but easily acquired at a US pharmacy with a forged prescription. Omar is dead now, too, and Matt suspects an assassin finished him off before the illness did. These days, Moscow is a loaded spring trap ready to snap at the slightest tick in the wrong direction, deadly enough that even a skilled Pavement Artist stands to don a disguise or two.

Despite the ocean between them, Joe’s voice rings through Matt’s head. It’s always strongest in Moscow, imploring him to pay attention. Notice things. This is the sort of place where it’s best to lean into strengths, so Matt jumps in with the rest of the red-eyed passengers as the mob progresses through customs, down to baggage claim, and toward ground transportation. From his pace to his posture, he strives to put on a seamless Soviet appearance.

When he reaches the lot, he identifies a license plate number he was instructed to memorize, then enters the backseat of the boxy beige Lada. The driver doesn’t look back when he says, “Nice weather we’re having, yes?” in the sort of thick, Russian dialect that only natives can pull off.

Matt replies in his own practiced Russian. “I hear rain is imminent,” he says. “But I seem to have forgotten my umbrella at home.”

Satisfied with the exchange, the driver shifts gears and squeezes out of his parking spot, working his way toward the main city. By now, Matt knows the streets of Moscow as well as he knows the streets of Hay Springs, so he pays close attention to the route, just in case the driver has been compromised in the past forty-eight hours. The two of them do not speak, wary of bugs. They do not exchange glances, wary of pinprick cameras sewn into buttons. Instead, they embrace their existence as total strangers, not eager to leave any impression of an alliance.

This suits Matt just fine. That is, until seventeen minutes later, when the driver takes a right-hand turn away from the city center, then another.

In this business, in this part of the world, two right turns are a surefire signal to any veteran agent that something significant is about to happen, though it’s impossible to predict whether he’s looking at a positive or negative outcome until the moment actually passes. That’s probably why Joe’s voice is in Matt’s head again, anticipating the worst and providing Matt with escape plans. 

The sidewalks look reasonably empty, easy enough to run.

The rear doors appear to be unlocked from the inside. 

If the doors are jammed shut from the outside, Matt’s shoe has an iron wedge embedded in the rubber heel, which will help him kick through the window.

The driver isn’t armed, but if he makes a move for the glove box, Matt’s best option is to choke him from behind.

The little Lada pulls up to an alleyway tucked between high-rise apartments and a seemingly abandoned liquor store. There are no streetlights. No witnesses. The driver shifts the car into park and says, “You exit now.”

Risk assessment is a key component of any covert decision and, in that moment, Matt senses some serious risk waiting for him at the other end of that alleyway. At the same time, he also senses an even greater risk if he overstays his welcome with this native Russian driver who, by the way, has about a hundred extra pounds on him. Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands up, he slowly exits the vehicle and prepares himself for the next piece of this rapidly evolving Moscow puzzle.

The instant Matt kicks the door shut and slings his bag back onto his shoulder, the Lada’s engine grinds into full gear with a squeal of the tires. He has officially run out of CIA instructions, but the good news is that he doesn’t have any time to doubt himself before his next priority makes itself apparent. The bad news is that his next priority should probably be to get away from the knife that was just pressed against his side.

The pointed end of the blade pokes along the muscle just above his hip. It hasn’t cut through his shirt yet, but one wrong move could change that and much more. “This is a nice surprise,” Matt says, sticking with Russian in a rushed attempt to keep his cover intact. “Where are we going?”

The answering Russian is good—excellent, even—but it has the subtle lilt of someone who learned it as a secondary language. “Is that all it takes to best you? One knife to the ribs and you roll over completely?” It’s a woman’s voice, and one of the few commonalities between the CIA and the KGB is the rarity of female agents among their ranks. Plus, the hold on the knife is petite and graceful, belonging to someone who was taught to fence before she was taught to fight. Matt decides he’s not up against a Soviet agent, but this ain’t a friend either. Not yet.

Joe’s voice is telling him to fight, but Matt’s curious enough to say, “In my experience, the person with the knife usually gets to make all the rules.” He continues with Russian, hoping that the woman will respond in kind and give him a chance to identify the accent layered below. “And, by the way, if you’re aiming for my ribs, you’re about two inches too low.”

She doesn’t disappoint. British accent, maybe. Or Australian. It really is impressively subtle. “Bold thing to say to someone with a knife to your side,” she says. “Remarks like that could get you killed.”

Matt huffs. “Maybe one day, but not today.”

She twists the knife a little deeper, pricking a hole in his shirt. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because if you were going to kill me, ma’am,” he says, “I’d already be dead.”

This is a bit of a risky gamble. Few things make one human want to kill another more than spite, and Matt’s gone ahead and welcomed it with open arms. His mama always did say he had a real way about him, when it came to tempting fate. Thankfully, this particular bet seems to pay off as the knife finally falls away from his torso. The woman grabs him by the back of his collar instead, pulling him deeper into the alleyway. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it,” she says with a sigh. “Come with me. And don’t ever call me ma’am—that much will get you killed.”

This is a joke. He thinks. And jokes are awfully promising in a place like Moscow. 

At the end of the alleyway, another car sits idling. No headlights. No plate lights. Matt can’t know for sure, but he reckons the brake lights are probably cut, too. In the presence of a car designed for a perfect covert getaway, Matt recognizes this moment for what it is—not an attack, but an escape. A high-tech game of keepaway.

In this particular instance, Matt is not an agent. Rather, he’s an asset in need of transportation, and he’s just met his new driver. When this stranger opens the rear door and shoves him inside, Matt knows that she’s putting on a show for potential onlookers. When she says, “Stay down,” he understands that his silhouette can’t be seen driving through the city. It is not enough to blend in—not when he could have a tail leftover from travel, not when the customs office could have bugged his backpack, not when a patrolman might recognize him from another visit into the city and assign a car to follow close behind. Agents have been known to disappear between an airport and a safe house, which means Matt is only safe if he becomes completely invisible. It’s the sort of thing that can only be accomplished with careful timing, meticulous planning, and an appreciation for redundancy, after redundancy, after redundancy.

In other words, this plan has Rachel Cameron written all over it.

He’s managed to avoid the thought for the past thirty-seven hours—and, frankly, for the entire two years before that—but the idea of being in the same city as Rachel after such a long time away has him wishing for a knife to his side instead. Knife wounds, at least, are an isolated pain with one clear source. They can be cleaned and stitched up. Bandaged and healed. This business with Rachel pings around all of his insides, taking turns with his stomach, his heart, his throat, his lungs. Rancid regret rots his brain and radiates down to every last muscle. Laying alone in the back of a stranger’s car, staring up at the velvet interior, Matt gets caught in a loop of all the things he wishes he’d said sooner.

He didn’t expect it to all stop.

He never should have made her cry.

He didn’t think it would last this long.

He lies, sometimes. He’s sorry he has to lie.

He’s doing good, good, good as often as he can.

Matt has always meant to say these things to her, but the longer they went without, the harder it got to call. Now it feels like too much time has passed to say any of it—like apologizing will only serve as a bitter reminder of just how deeply they tore into one another. Like acknowledging it will only reopen scars that have only just started to heal over.

The longer they drive, the more Rachel’s proximity presses down on his chest, squeezing him into the seat. He knows he ought to count the seconds. Track the turns. Try to get some sense of where they’re headed. But Rachel Cameron fills every last available space in his thoughts and, God almighty, she would lecture him straight to high heaven if she knew how distracted he was.

Once he’s fully worked himself up into a tightly wound ball of unspoken mistakes, the tires hit a gravel drive. The car takes an awfully long route over bumpy back roads and heavily forested hills, which is especially impressive given the lack of headlights, before it finally slows to a stop. His driver turns to the backseat, moonlight catching on the curve of her cheek, an icy white steak against smooth dark skin. “Congratulations on surviving your trip,” she says, and Matt thinks it might be an American southern drawl hiding beneath her Russian, with the way her vowels drawl. “You may leave. Your bag, however, must stay until morning.”

Matt sits upright, his silhouette visible to the night once more. “Sure thing,” he answers. “It’s like I said—the lady with the knife gets to make the rules.”

This earns him a subtle tick of the stranger’s lips. Matt latches onto the near smile and vows to turn into a broad, toothy grin sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, he’ll settle for the semi-charmed side-eye she casts his way, just before she opens the driver door. “Bloody Hell,” she says as she exits, finally switching to English. “She was right about you.”

British. Damn. Matt should have trusted his gut.

Wait. 

He bolts out of the backseat and jogs to catch up. “Right about me?” he echoes, falling back into his own American English. “Who was right about me—right about what?”

The Brit’s stride is incredibly long, and would probably be better suited to a runway than barely-used backwoods paths overgrown with weeds. Matt has to quicken his own pace just to keep up with her. “Never you mind,” she says. “This way.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” he tries, “that you get inside info on me when I don’t even know your name—”

“This way,” she says again. “Surely I don’t have to remind you, of all people, that Moscow’s trees have ears.”

Matt has spent a significant portion of his career listening to conversations picked up by precisely placed bugs exactly like the ones she speaks of now. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the surrounding trees probably aren’t bugged—at least not in the way she expects. The Soviets wouldn’t go to the trouble of tagging each individual tree, only to have an opposing agent uncover them within an hour of arrival. The birds, foxes, and deer, however, are worth a second glance. 

Either way, she’s right. The forest is no place for introductions. Instead, he follows as she hikes toward a tiny cabin tucked between one hillside and another. It appears perfectly plain on the outside, built from cedar logs and a tin roof. Shrubs and pines surround the perimeter, and Matt knows from experience that these are probably prickly and unpleasant, making it difficult for any unwelcome guests to get too close. The curtains are drawn. The chimney is without smoke. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say no one was home. 

They cover their tracks as they go, wordless right up until they reach the door. Mind split in the dozens of different directions demanded by good countersurveillance, Matt forgets to be nervous until the last minute, when the Brit knocks in a unique, four-rap pattern, then opens the door. The cabin’s light flashes into the nighttime forest, so they waste no time stepping inside. 

A new voice greets them. Then again, this voice ain’t really new. Not to him. He’d know this particular voice anywhere, even if he spent years, decades, centuries away. “Grace?”

Rachel Cameron waits for them just inside, seated at a small dining table at the center of a small kitchen. Rachel Cameron has lists, and blueprints, and notes scattered all across the tabletop, the chairs, the linoleum, splayed across kitchen countertops, and taped to cabinets, and stuck to the refrigerator with little black magnets. Rachel Cameron scans one stack of papers with the pencil in her right hand, then another with a highlighter in her left. Rachel Cameron looks up. Rachel Cameron meets his gaze. Rachel Cameron sighs.

Genius. He’s always known the word applied to her, though it strikes him anew. Rachel’s brilliance is better experienced in small doses, when he can slowly acclimate himself to the raw appreciation of it. The last two years have robbed him of his resilience and it’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time all over again.

Except it only takes a single moment for all of their history to come rushing back, filling the room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, until there’s no more space for words, or gestures, or glances. Rachel looks away first, eyes falling back to a set of blueprints, and Matt follows her lead.

Thankfully, their companion cuts through the silence without a trace of discomfort. “Found your boy,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “He’s cheeky, this one.”

Matt starts to protest with “Oh, I ain’t—” at the same time Rachel says, “He’s not my—”

They both stop, and wait, and wait some more. Neither of them meet the other’s eyes. When enough excruciating seconds have passed, Rachel starts again, and Matt lets her. “Thank you for picking him up,” she says. “I know you were eager to stay in tonight, but—”

“But we aren’t taking any chances with this op,” the Brit finishes. “Understood. Really, Rachel. Though I will say, I was a bit surprised at how easily this one came along with a complete stranger.”

It is as if all of Rachel’s years of etiquette training hit her at once. She brings her fingers to her forehead, suddenly remembering. “Ah, yes, sorry. You haven’t been introduced yet.”

“Not unless you count my putting a knife into his side,” she says.

Matt clears his throat, finally finding his words. “In this business, that’s sometimes the only introduction we get.”

The Brit smiles again. It’s still not the full grin he’s looking for, but it’s closer. “Quite right.”

Rachel studies the pair of them, analyzing something Matt can’t see. She squints back and forth between them, her face twisting into something sour, as though she’s not sure she likes what she’s looking at. “Right,” she says, slowly. Then, clears her throat. “Right, well, anyway. Grace, this is Matthew Morgan. Matthew, this is Grace Harris—”

“Baxter,” Grace cuts in.

“Right,” says Rachel, squeezing her eyes shut, remembering again. Matt’s not sure he’s ever seen Rachel forget anything, and he takes note of the fact that she’s gone and forgotten twice in a sixty-second span. A data point he’ll save for later. “Grace Baxter.”

Grace Baxter holds out her hand to shake, meeting Matt with a far firmer grip than he’s expecting. He feels a couple of knuckles pop in his own hand, and resists the urge to call out. “It’s so great to finally meet you,” she says. 

That’s an awfully interesting choice of words. “Finally?” says Matt.

Grace does not elaborate. “My husband is around as well, but he’s being a good little agent and sleeping off his jet lag while it’s still dark.”

Matt, who hasn’t had more than two hours of consecutive sleep since DC, can’t quite hide the longing in his reply. “Smart man.”

“Outrageously so. It’s infuriating, really,” Grace agrees. “You’ll see him at breakfast tomorrow, but in the meantime we should all probably join him. The last thing we need is four exhausted agents trying to run an op in Moscow.”

Matt has about a million more questions for Grace Baxter, but none of them form quite right in his head. A fog fills his brain, clouding all of his better thoughts, and he reckons Grace is probably right. He’s useless to Rachel like this, and she’ll be the first to call him on it. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he says. “Do you think we ought to run it by the boss, first?”

Grace risks a glance toward Rachel, who has already returned to one of her blueprints. With Rachel’s attention occupied, Matt steals this chance to take her in. Her clothes are worn with travel and her shoulders slump with a need for sleep. Some of her curls have escaped the denim scrunchie holding back the bulk of her hair, falling into her face, and Matt remembers all at once that Rachel never did know how to stop, once she got started.

“Good luck,” Grace scoffs. “I’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s been planning since the moment she walked in.”

Matt ain’t got any sense that Rachel doesn’t already have ten times over, and he doesn’t dare pretend otherwise. Thankfully, Rachel recognizes this and provides an answer of her own. “I’ve been planning for the past three months,” she corrects, just as she circles something on the page. “I just wanted to get some last-minute changes down before bed.”

Grace turns back to Matt. “You see? Hopeless,” she says. “You two may do what you please, but I intend to get some sleep. Pulling off a fake kidnapping at the edge of Moscow is exhausting work, you know.”

With this, she sends a playful jab into Matt’s side. Only problem is, Grace’s idea of a playful jab is most people’s idea of a full-on elbow to the ribs, and Matt has to catch his breath afterward. It takes all of his might not to let out an unmanly yelp in front of these two women. “Right,” he gasps. “See you in the morning.”

“Thanks again, Grace,” Rachel calls, not looking up from her writing.

With a wave of her fingers, Grace disappears behind one of the two available doors and shuts it with a twist of the lock. Matt realizes too late that her absence leaves just him and Rachel. Alone. Together.

This silence just won’t do.

“Flights good?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, scribbling away.

“Abby okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Yes.”

“You okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” This is worse than the silence, actually. Out of questions and energy stores depleted, Matt decides that his only remaining move is one that has been employed by desperate agents for centuries—a retreat. “Listen, I think I might join the others and try to get some sleep. Unless you need me?”

Scribble, scribble. “Not yet.”

“Great,” he says. “Just point me to my bed and I’ll be on my way.”

Rachel’s pencil freezes mid-sentence. This is Matt’s first clue that something is horribly wrong, followed by the fact that her eyes finally meet his and this time, she doesn’t look away. “No.”

“Um.” Retreat, retreat, retreat. “Okay? I guess I can find it—”

But Rachel is already up, dashing through the sliver of a living room that hosts a single chair, a coffee table, and a throw blanket. When she reaches the second available door in the cabin, blood drains from her already pale face, turning it to an alarming, ashen white. Her voice is hollow and distant when she squeaks out a soft, “No, no, no.”

When it comes to Rachel, Matt is woefully out of practice, but it doesn’t take an expert to see the panic, and Rachel’s panic ain’t built the same way everyone else’s is. The sight of Rachel out of sorts is enough to get Matt’s heart really, truly racing. “Rachel, what are you—?”

She flicks on the light, and when Matt steps up behind her, he’s met with an instant understanding of the situation. “There’s only one other bed,” she says, spinning to face him as she explains. “Abby and I usually share. I booked the safe house when it was going to be the two of us, but between the hospital, and the flights, and coordinating our assets…” Sometimes Matt wonders how loud the inside of her head must be. He suspects she doesn’t realize when her words dissolve between inner and outer monologue. It takes some deciphering to understand her complete thoughts from start to finish. “I forgot. I’m so sorry, I forgot to account for the beds when I switched agents, I’ll take the couch.”

By couch, he supposes she means the ancient loveseat tucked away at the end of the bed. The leather cushions are scratched and cracked, and the silver shine of a spring peeks out from beneath the quilt laid across its back. A grease stain rests along the arm where agents have laid their heads for years and years before. Throughout his travels, Matt has seen more than his fair share of uncomfortable furniture and this one has serious potential to rank among the worst, but this is Rachel’s third strike at forgetfulness when she’s usually a home run hitter. She needs to sleep, and sleep well, and it simply won’t do, for her to sleep on that old thing. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No it’s my mistake, I should—”

“Rachel,” he says, and his hands fall to her shoulders out of habit. Out of familiarity. “I’m sorry, but there just ain’t no way I’m letting you take the couch.” She’s looking up at him with big, brown eyes. They’re glassy, and tired, and he spares Rachel her dignity by ignoring the twinge of tears sneaking into either corner. “She may be all the way in Nebraska now, but there’s no quicker way to get Joy Morgan to Moscow than if I let you sleep on that couch.”

She shakes her head. “Matthew—”

“I’m telling you,” he tries again. “My mama can sense that sorta thing, and believe me when I say she’ll shake down the entire agency to find this cabin and knock me six ways from Sunday, right upside my head.”

“You’re worried that your mother will intimidate CIA agents into disclosing the location of one of their most heavily protected safe houses?”

“You’ve never seen my mama when there’s a matter of chivalry at stake.”

“Matthew, I—” she interrupts herself, this time, freezing when she meets his gaze. “Your eyes,” she says, studying the intimate features of his face. “Your eyes are blue.”

This is outright nonsense, and even more proof that she needs to sleep. That is, until he remembers the light blue contacts. He blinks, as though he might be able to get rid of the color, because everything artificial seems so ridiculous now that he’s in the presence of someone who knows him to his core. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sorry.”

With that, she studies him more deeply, and he notices the faint lines that have started to form where her eyebrows always furrow, the freckles she’s accumulated along her cheekbones with years of missions spent in the sun, the ease with which her lips fall into a tight, even line. Her eyes bounce between each of his, debating her next words before she finally says, “Why are you apologizing?”

Matt’s breath catches, and he knows this is it. The opening he’s been waiting for. But it’s late, and they’re tired, and they both smell like planes, and airports, and taxis. So despite the desperate words trying to crawl from his heart to his mouth, he settles on something softer. “I think we both know I’ve got plenty to apologize for,” he says, finally letting his hands fall. “But I think we both know this ain’t the time to do it.”

Genius. She’s always been smarter than him in more ways than he can count, and this moment is no exception. She’s smart enough to know that they both need clearer heads. That they both need a moment of quiet. That morning will come and they’ll both be better for it, and that tonight is no place for their usual fights. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about the bed,” she says, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t—”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“I’m so tired.”

She has this way of taking small words and making them feel big. Of making them span years, when they shouldn’t last more than a second or two. Rachel isn’t tired, so much as she’s exhausted, and burned out, and lonely, and weighed down—and she manages to convey all of this by simply shaking her head, and folding her face into her hands, and standing in front of him with all of the humility in the world.

He has this way of feeling her when she most needs it, in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Of hearing those great big words tied up in all of her small ones, and trying his best to say the right thing in response. “Let’s get some sleep, then,” he says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll get some sleep, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what all of those crazy kitchen plans mean.”

Despite herself, she laughs. It's a pitiful, mangled thing, but it still counts. “They’re not as crazy as they look.”

And Matt can’t hold back a smile. “Well thank God for that, because they look…” he tries to find a word, but this is much like everything else Rachel does, in that it defies explanation. “I mean, seriously, Rachel, you’ve gone full Doc Brown in there.”

She shoves him, gently, and Matt makes a show of clasping at his chest in faux hurt. “They’ll make more sense in the morning,” she tells him.

“Everything will make more sense in the morning,” he assures her.

And she believes him. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

That’s enough for them, for tonight, for now. It’s all they need. And maybe tomorrow will be bitter and hard at the center of Moscow, working an op that Rachel has given her whole heart to, but right now is easy and safe. Right now, they’re old friends who need each other more than they knew. 

Rachel finds his eyes again, and sighs something that sounds like relief and regret mixed together. “At least let me ease some of my guilt by hunting down a truly outrageous number of blankets on your behalf.”

Matt looks back to the loveseat and knows in his gut that there will not be enough room for more than one blanket. There is barely enough room for Matt, as is. Even so, he smiles at her. “Rachel Cameron,” he says. “I’ll always take any blanket you hand me.”

#Full Circle

[beardedmrbean]

Shamima Begum has lost her latest bid to overturn the government’s decision to strip her of British citizenship, the Court of Appeal has ruled.

Ms Begum left the UK aged 15 with two other east London schoolgirls to travel to Syria in February 2015.

Last year, she lost a challenge against the decision at the Special Immigration Appeals Commission (SIAC).

Here are the key developments to date:

August 1999: Shamima Begum is born in England to parents of Bangladeshi heritage.

February 2015: British counter-terrorism police launched an international hunt to find three London schoolgirls who were making their way to the so-called Islamic State’s (Isis) territory in Syria.

Ms Begum, 15, had slipped out of her house in east London, with friends, Kadiza Sultant, 16 and Amira Abase. They caught a flight to Istanbul, Turkey and travelled to the Syrian border from there.

In late February, the Metropolitan police confirm that Begum and her friends had reached Syria. Ten days after arriving in the country, Shamima Begum marries Yago Riedijk, a Dutch-born convert to Islam and a convicted terrorist.

October 2017: A US-backed alliance of Syrian fighters takes full control of Raqqa, ending three years of Isis rule in the city.

13 February 2019: The Times’ war correspondent Anthony Loyd finds Ms Begum, then 19-years-old, at the al-Hawl refugee camp in Northern Syria. A pregnant Ms Begum tells him that she wants to return to the UK to raise her child but that she did not regret her decision to join Isis. She says that she had had two other children who died of malnutrition.

She says she had been unfazed by seeing the head of a beheaded man as he was an “enemy of Islam” but believes that Isis did not deserve victory.

Three days later, Ms Begum gives birth to a baby boy.

19 February 2019: The UK government serves notice that it intends to strip Ms Begum of her British citizenship.

The then-Home Secretary, Sajid Javid, writes to Ms Begum’s parents to inform them of his order to strip her citizenship. He believes that, because her parents are of Bangladeshi heritage, she can apply for citizenship of that country.

The law allows the government to remove citizenship if they can show the person behaved “in a manner which is seriously prejudicial to the vital interests of the UK” and when there is “reasonable grounds for believing that the person is able, under the law of a country or territory outside the UK, to become a national of such a country or territory.”

24 February 2019: Ms Begum’s father, Ahmed Ali, speaks to The Mail on Sunday and says that he “doesn’t have a problem” with his daughter’s British citizenship being removed.

Speaking from his home in Bangladesh, he said: “If she at least admitted she made a mistake then I would feel sorry for her and other people would feel sorry for her, but she does not accept her wrong.”

16 July 2020: The Court of Appeal rules that Ms Begum should be permitted to return to the UK in order to fairly contest the British government’s decision to revoke her citizenship. This ruling was appealed and sent to the Supreme Court.

26 February 2021: On February 26, the Supreme Court ruled unanimously against bringing Ms Begum back, thus reversing the previous decision.

15 September 2021: Ms Begum asks the British people for forgiveness in an interview with ITV. The now-22-year-old says that Isis’s killing of innocent people is “unjustifiable”.

She apologised for comments she had previously made to a BBC journalist about the Manchester Arena bombing. In 2019, she had claimed - when asked about the 2017 attack - that it was wrong to kill innocent people, but that Isis considered it justified as retaliation for coalition bombing of Isis-held areas.

She told ITV: “I do not believe that one evil justifies another evil. I don’t think that women and children should be killed for other people’s motives and for other people’s agendas.”

November 2022

Before the Special Immigration Appeals Commission (SIAC), Ms Begum’s counsel said: “Without seeking to investigate and determine, still less consider, whether she was a child victim of trafficking and whether there were failures by public authorities in the UK to prevent her being trafficked.”

January 2023

In the BBC podcast series, she said she understood public anger towards her but insisted she was not a “bad person”.

She said she accepted she was viewed “as a danger, as a risk”, but blamed her portrayal in the media.

February 22, 2023

Ms Begum lost her appeal in a SIAC court to overturn the government’s decision to strip her of her British citizenship.

October 2023

Ms Begum’s appeal against the loss of her British citizenship began in the Court of Appeal.

Begum’s team of barristers claim she was a victim of Isis propaganda and was groomed into terrorism.

Samantha Knights KC told the court the government had failed to consider the legal duties owed to Ms Begum as a potential victim of trafficking or as a result of “state failures” in her case.

February 2024

Three judges dismissed Ms Begum‘s bid at the Court of Appeal.

Giving the ruling, Lady Chief Justice Baroness Carr said: “It could be argued the decision in Ms Begum‘s case was harsh. It could also be argued that Ms Begum is the author of her own misfortune.

“But it is not for this court to agree or disagree with either point of view. Our only task is to assess whether the deprivation decision was unlawful.

#nunyas news

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 9.6 (after 1940)

1943 – The Monterrey Institute of Technology is founded in Monterrey, Mexico as one of the largest and most influential private universities in Latin America. 1943 – Pennsylvania Railroad's premier train derails at Frankford Junction in Philadelphia, killing 79 people and injuring 117 others. 1944 – World War II: The city of Ypres, Belgium is liberated by Allied forces. 1944 – World War II: Soviet forces capture the city of Tartu, Estonia. 1946 – United States Secretary of State James F. Byrnes announces that the U.S. will follow a policy of economic reconstruction in postwar Germany. 1952 – A prototype aircraft crashes at the Farnborough Airshow in Hampshire, England, killing 29 spectators and the two on board. 1955 – Istanbul's Greek, Jewish, and Armenian minorities are the target of a government-sponsored pogrom; dozens are killed in ensuing riots. 1962 – The United States government begins the Exercise Spade Fork nuclear readiness drill. 1962 – Archaeologist Peter Marsden discovers the first of the Blackfriars Ships dating back to the second century AD in the Blackfriars area of the banks of the River Thames in London. 1965 – India retaliates following Pakistan's Operation Grand Slam which results in the Indo-Pakistani War of 1965 that ends in a stalemate followed by the signing of the Tashkent Declaration. 1966 – Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd, the architect of apartheid, is stabbed to death in Cape Town, South Africa during a parliamentary meeting. 1968 – Swaziland becomes independent. 1970 – Two passenger jets bound from Europe to New York are simultaneously hijacked by Palestinian terrorist members of the PFLP and taken to Dawson's Field, Jordan. 1971 – Paninternational Flight 112 crashes on the Bundesautobahn 7 highway near Hamburg Airport, in Hamburg, Germany, killing 22. 1972 – Munich massacre: Nine Israeli athletes die (along with a German policeman) at the hands of the Palestinian "Black September" terrorist group after being taken hostage at the Munich Olympic Games. Two other Israeli athletes were slain in the initial attack the previous day. 1976 – Cold War: Soviet Air Defence Forces pilot Viktor Belenko lands a Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-25 jet fighter at Hakodate in Japan and requests political asylum in the United States; his request is granted. 1983 – The Soviet Union admits to shooting down Korean Air Lines Flight 007, stating that its operatives did not know that it was a civilian aircraft when it reportedly violated Soviet airspace. 1985 – Midwest Express Airlines Flight 105 crashes near Milwaukee Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, killing all 31 people on board. 1991 – The Soviet Union recognizes the independence of the Baltic states Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. 1991 – The Russian parliament approves the name change of Leningrad back to Saint Petersburg. The change is effective October 1. 1995 – Cal Ripken Jr. of the Baltimore Orioles plays in his 2,131st consecutive game, breaking a record that had stood for 56 years. 1997 – The Funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales takes place in London. Well over a million people lined the streets and 21⁄2 billion watched around the world on television. 2003 – Mahmoud Abbas resigns from his position of Palestinian Prime Minister. 2007 – Israel executes the air strike Operation Orchard to destroy a nuclear reactor in Syria. 2013 – Forty-one elephants are poisoned with cyanide in salt pans, by poachers in Hwange National Park. 2018 – Supreme Court of India decriminalised all consensual sex among adults in private, making homosexuality legal on the Indian lands. 2022 – Boris Johnson resigns as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and is replaced by Liz Truss. Their meetings with Queen Elizabeth II at Balmoral Castle were the Queen's final official duties before her death two days later. 2022 – Russo-Ukrainian War: Ukraine begins its Kharkiv counteroffensive, surprising Russian forces and retaking over 3,000 square kilometers of land, recapturing the entire Kharkiv Oblast west of the Oskil River, within the next week.

#Events

[hazmattenhatten]

So, I'm writing a fanfic right now that's set before the game starts, and there's a part where Scout's taking a flight to New Mexico. And so I got distracted and spent over half an hour figuring out the flight routes that the mercenaries would take to get there. The routes are as follows:

Scout: Takes a flight from Boston to Dallas, then Dallas to Albuquerque

Soldier: Drives from Idaho (I jokingly headcanon he's from Idaho) to Seattle, then takes a flight from Seattle to Las Vegas, then Las Vegas to Albuquerque

Pyro: I don't even know where he's from so I don't know how he'd get there either. For my writing purposes he gets there before everyone else

Demoman: Takes a train from Ullapool to Glasgow, then takes a flight from Glasgow to London, then London to Los Angeles, then Los Angeles to Albuquerque

Heavy: Gets to Moscow probably through a lot of driving and flights that I don't even want to begin thinking about, then takes a flight from Moscow to Istanbul, then Istanbul to London, then London to Houston, then Houston to Albuquerque

Engineer: Drives from Bee Cave to Dallas, then takes a flight from Dallas to Albuquerque

Medic: Takes a train from Stuttgart to Munich, then takes a flight from Munich to Houston, then Houston to Albuquerque

Sniper: Drives to Sydney, then takes a flight from Sydney to Brisbane, then Brisbane to Los Angeles, then Los Angeles to Albuquerque

Spy: (Assuming he starts in Paris) Takes a flight from Paris to Munich, then Munich to Houston, then Houston to Albuquerque

So, unless I decide to change things for my own writing purposes, Scout and Engineer fly together, Demo and Sniper fly together, and Medic and Spy fly together and are later joined by Heavy. Soldier is the only one flying by himself (honestly not a great idea).

Was this way too much work? Yes. Will I do it again in the near future? Probably.

#i might write a fic later with medic spy and heavy on their flight together #and also for demo and sniper #or at the very least draw it out #anyways its 2am im going to bed #team fortress 2 #tf2 #hazmatten posting

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

Tonight (May 30) at 6:30PM, I’m at the NOTTINGHAM Waterstones with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Christian Reilly (MMT Podcast).

Tomorrow (May 31) at 6:30PM, I’m at the MANCHESTER Waterstones, hosted by Ian Forrester.

Then it’s London, Edinburgh, and Berlin!

#20yrsago Everquest social networks need the Mafia https://web.archive.org/web/20030301000000*/http://hypertext.rmit.edu.au/dac/papers/Jakobsson.pdf

#20yrsago Streisand suing environmentalists over California Coastline project https://www.californiacoastline.org/streisand/lawsuit.html

#15yrsago English nurseries fingerprinting parents “for security” https://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/kent/7430709.stm

#15yrsago Happy First Sale day! https://everybodyslibraries.com/2008/06/01/100-years-of-the-first-sale-doctrine/

#10yrsago Coloring the Haunted Mansion https://longforgottenhauntedmansion.blogspot.com/2013/06/stroll-around-grounds-until-you-feel-at.html

#10yrsago What is the social media style of protest? https://technosociology.org/?p=1255

#10yrsago Turkish Spring: Taksim Gezi Park protests in Istanbul https://occupygezipics.tumblr.com/post/51867772932/people-chanting-off-with-the-government-as-they

#10yrsago Mouldering city built of bread is a metaphor for Earth without humans https://web.archive.org/web/20130728143258/http://www.adesignaward.com/design.php?ID=28463

#5yrsago Leaks show that Google expected its modest AI-for-drones business to expand exponentially https://theintercept.com/2018/05/31/google-leaked-emails-drone-ai-pentagon-lucrative/

#5yrsago Vermont offers remote workers a $10,000 subsidy to relocate to the state https://qz.com/work/1289727/vermont-will-pay-you-10000-to-move-there-and-work-remotely

#5yrsago Oregon employers warn that the state has run out of workers who can pass a drug test https://www.wweek.com/news/2018/05/30/oregon-is-running-out-of-workers-who-can-pass-a-drug-test/

#5yrsago Customs stole a US citizen’s life savings when he boarded a domestic flight, now he’s suing to get it back https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/05/31/a-64-year-old-put-his-life-savings-in-his-carry-on-u-s-customs-took-it-without-charging-him-with-a-crime/

#5yrsago The most interesting thing about the “Thanksgiving Effect” study is what it tells us about the limits of data anonymization https://www.wired.com/story/the-thanksgiving-effect-and-the-power-of-phone-data/

#5yrsago Uganda’s unenforceable social media tax is augmented by a biometric requirement for SIM card purchases https://globalvoices.org/2018/06/01/netizen-report-ugandas-whatsapp-tax-and-sim-card-regulations-will-make-it-harder-to-stay-connected/

#5yrsago Vanuatu will use drones to deliver vaccines across its remote chain of tiny islands https://spectrum.ieee.org/drone-delivery-becomes-a-reality-in-remote-pacific-islands

#5yrsago Spain’s austerity-loving, authoritarian Prime Minister loses no-confidence vote and is replaced by a socialist https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/spain-government-collapse-no-confidence-vote-mariano-rajoy-a8378586.html

#5yrsago At ex-CIA panelist’s insistence, Oxford Union reneges on promise to upload video of whistleblowing debate https://www.dailypublic.com/articles/05312018/irony-oxford-union-wont-release-video-whistleblowing-panel

#1yrago Inflation is caused by too little capacity: Not too much money https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/01/factories-to-condos-pipeline/#stuff-not-money

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Nottingham, Manchester, London, and Berlin!

#pluralistic

[aryap]

London

Bagian 2 dari 3 tulisan.

Baca tulisan pertama di sini.

Tulisan perjalanan ini lebih jadi catatan pribadi sih. Daripada kelupaan dan nggak ada jejaknya, mending ditulis di Tumblr-tumblran ini. 

Departure and Arrival

Setelah deg-degan nungguin selama tujuh minggu, pengumuman bahwa visa gue dikabulkan baru nongol hari Kamis, 6 Oktober 2022, malam hari sekitar jam 20.00 WIB. Fyuh, lega banget. Padahal beberapa jam sebelumnya, gue udah batalin booking Airbnb sebelum kartu kredit kena charge. Takut visanya beneran nggak terbit tepat waktu dan gue harus bayar buat 7 malam kan rugi bandar banget. 

Ya sudahlah, untungnya visa terbit tepat waktu dan berlaku untuk multiple entry hingga akhir Maret 2023. Gue langsung cari-cari penginepan yang harganya jelas udah nggak murah. Akhirnya dapat hotel kecil di deket Stasiun Paddington buat tiga malam pertama. Gue milih tempat yang deket sama tengah kota karena berdasarkan pengalaman ngetrip di NYC tahun 2014, meski naik kereta/subway nggak macet, tapi kalo sekali jalan butuh 30an menit, tetep aja repot dan males. Gue juga melanjutkan persiapan packing yang sebenarnya nggak banyak. Memastikan nggak ada yang ketinggalan, termasuk beberapa bawaan buat temen-temen yang tinggal di UK.

Selain itu gue juga mengonfirmasi pembelian tiket pertandingan Manchester United vs Newcastle United lewat seorang teman. Pertandingannya berlangsung hari Minggu tanggal 16 Oktober sore hari, jadi gue juga langsung arrange tiket kereta dari London ke Manchester lewat Sheffield (mampir rumah Renny dulu semalam) dan Manchester-London direct.

Tanggal 9 Oktober sore, gue berangkat ke bandara naik KA Bandara dari Dukuh Atas. Niatnya mau makan dulu di sana sebelum ke bandara, tapi kecele karena ternyata semua toko, kafe dan restoran di stasiun KA Bandara masih tutup semenjak pandemi. Sampe di konter cek-in Turkish Airlines, nggak ada antrean. Kayaknya sebagian besar penumpang flight TK57 yang akan gue naikin udah cek in di awal karena mereka berupa rombongan umrah. Bagasi gue juga ringan, cuma 15kg dari batas maksimal 30kg. 

Berangkat dari Soekarno Hatta sekitar jam 21.40WIB, TK57 terbang selama 12 jam buat nyampe di Istanbul sekitar jam 6.00 waktu setempat. Bandara ini masih anyar banget karena baru dipakai bulan April 2019. Terminalnya besar, bersih, nyaman, banyak tempat duduk-duduk dan colokan, kafe-kafe penjual makanan dan minuman juga banyak. Jadi jangan takut bosan sih kalo naik Turkish Airlines dan transit di Istanbul. Selain itu, di sana juga udah nggak berlaku aturan buat pake masker. Sebagian kecil yang masih tertib pake masker biasanya orang-orang berwajah Asia Timur aja.

Setelah hampir tiga jam transit, gue naik penerbangan lanjutan TK1979 rute Istanbul-Heathrow jam 8.55 waktu setempat. Kalo di TK57 kebanyakan penumpang adalah WNI, dengan sebagian besar di antaranya jamaah umrah, maka TK1979 sepertinya banyak dinaiki oleh warga negara UK. Indikasinya sih dari diversity orang-orangnya yang sering diliat di berita-berita, film atau acara TV dari Inggris. lol. 

Setelah 3 jam-an terbang TK1979 mendarat di Heathrow sekitar jam 9.55 waktu setempat (beda waktu Istanbul dengan London adalah dua jam). Langit di atas Heathrow mendung, tipikal banget cuaca Inggris, tapi nggak ada hujan dan pendaratan berlangsung mulus.

Melewati border control UK sempat bikin gue nervous. Teringatlah pengalaman beberapa kali melewati border control Amerika yang sangat ketat, galak dan diskriminatif, gue takut ada kejadian serupa. Antrean panjang, tapi majunya lumayan cepat. Gue beruntung karena petugas imigrasi yang melayani gue ternyata ramah. Dia menyapa mengucapkan selamat pagi dan nanyain keperluan gue berkunjung. Gue jawab bahwa gue mau sightseeing, nonton bola dan ketemu sama beberapa teman. Pas gue bilang gue mau nonton bola, dia tersenyum. Mungkin paham lah bahwa emang ada orang-orang yang harus terbang belasan atau puluhan ribu km buat nonton bola. Kemudian, setelah menanyakan apakah gue udah punya return ticket atau belum (jawabannya tentu saja sudah), maka gue diizinkan lewat. Sungguh cepat, kurang dari 3 menit. 

Di London

Setelah top up Oyster Card buat naik transportasi, gue naik Tube Piccadilly Line buat ke tengah kota. Kereta di line ini ukurannya kecil dan pendek dan keliatan banget udah tua. Nggak cuma berisik, tapi juga nggak berpendingin udara. Untungnya suhu bulan Oktober udah cukup dingin jadi masuk ke dalam kereta nggak kaya masuk ke oven. hahaha.

Sampe ke Paddington, ternyata cuaca cerah nggak kaya di Heathrow. Suhu udara sekitar 13 derajat celcius. Masih enak buat pake kaos pendek aja buat jalan-jalan. Setelah titip koper ke hotel, gue cari makan siang di sekitaran Paddington dan balik lagi ke hotel buat cek in. Habis itu mulailah gue mengeksplor London. 

Sebagai anak kota, gue seneng banget naik turun Tube dan bus merah yang ikonik tersebut. Ke mana-mana enak karena pasti ada transportasi umumnya. Gue sangat kagum dengan bangunan-bangunan di London yang punya ciri khas tersendiri. Banyak bangunan tua, bahkan yang dari era medieval, yang masih berdiri kokoh dan memperkuat identitas London sebagai salah satu kota tertua di Eropa sekaligus pusat ekonomi, budaya dan pendidikan di masa lalu dan masa sekarang.

Gue memprioritaskan untuk mengunjungi tempat-tempat bersejarah, museum, taman, pasar dan city landmarks lain. Gue gak akan berpanjang lebar tentang itinerary gue dan buat yang penasaran dengan tempat-tempat yang gue kunjungi, bisa diliat di sini. Selain itu, gue juga memposting tempat-tempat yang gue kunjungi di feed dan story highlight di Instagram gue. Jangan lupa berkunjung dan follow ya!

Oh iya, beberapa teman sempat bertanya juga tentang jet lag. Kenapa bisa gue begitu mendarat bisa langsung bepergian sampe malam. Lalu malemnya bisa langsung tidur dan bangun pagi. Apa nggak ngantuk di siang hari dan melek di malam hari? 

Jadi, gue cukup aware bahwa ternyata kemampuan mengatasi jet lag itu nggak dimiliki setiap orang. Kuncinya sebenarnya adalah ketika masih di perjalanan, gue menyesuaikan jam tubuh gue dengan waktu di kota tujuan. Jadi misalnya saat masih di pesawat malem, tapi di tempat tujuan udah siang, sebaiknya jangan tidur banyak-banyak. Anggaplah lo udah di zona waktu kota tujuan dan seharusnya pada saat itu badan lo lagi bangun. Demikian juga sebaliknya. Cara ini mengeliminasi kebutuhan badan buat beradaptasi saat sudah nyampe. Bayangin aja kalo waktu tripnya cuma tujuh hari, tapi dua hari dipake buat beradaptasi dengan zona waktu setempat, jadinya banyak waktu terbuang sia-sia kan.

Lalu, gimana dengan perjalanan ke Manchester dan nonton MU di Old Trafford? Nantikan di tulisan ketiga, ya.

#inggris #UK #unitedkingdom #london #londontrip #uktrip #aryanginggris

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Work in progress Wednesday, the dreaded ‘steampunk vampires’, and the things I had to google for the short transition, like plotting a reasonable route to get to London from ‘nothingwhere’ somewhere in the south of Crimea, or ‘what would be a colloquial name for morphine in 1910-20s’, or ‘what high class hotels were in 1920 in Copenhagen’, or ‘remember, it’s Constantinople, not Istanbul, in 1920′. Well, barely anything happens, but a wedding is mentioned. Also, mostly unedited.

*

The drive to Odessa takes well over a day, and to Jack's utmost satisfaction Gabriel has to forgo his wide-rimmed hat for the time as it turns out to be anything but aerodynamic. He doesn't ask about the Andalusian, sure it will find its way to the owner when needed. Then the situation gets turned back on Jack when his credit line at the bank is refused due to his lack of perceived regality until Gabriel vouches for him as his ward, which he, in the legal sense, probably is. He wouldn't put it past father to do so, the miserable fuck.

Only in the cabin of the ship bound for Constantinople, Jack lets himself rest, with a little help from Miss Emma for the insomnia and his shoulder, painful and contrary now after the stretch behind the steering wheel over the dirt roads and fallows. He dreams of the ghosts of Bosporus pulling him down into the depths of the strait and of teeth in his neck - the afterimages last until hours past the boarding of the train, the automobile sent back separately via the sea route. The days slip by in a flurry of indifferent phantasms punctuated by mostly polite non-conversations with Gabriel hovering over him as Jack medicates for the pain. The wound, left alone, is stiff but healing properly, and shouldn't bother him in the foreseeable future.

Jack leaves off the morphine a day before they arrive in Copenhagen; the city itself welcomes them with sunny disposition and crisp air regardless of the talk of a plague sweeping through Europe said to kill unfortunates in less than a night. Yet, there is no delay or any other trouble at the zeppelin terminal to book a seat on flight to London for the next day. Jack, with barely suppressed glee, spends the whole evening soaking in a hot bath at Hotel Terminus, a luxury if there ever was one. He emerges from the water red and overheated, and plunges straight into cool satin sheets spread over impossibly soft mattress, such decadence almost unthinkable after over a year away from his home country - and privilege afforded him by his birthright.

Unsurprisingly, half the night is sleepless until he moves to the floor and wraps himself with a blanket, and even then his irritated skin makes the sleep nigh unattainable as he dozes off only to wake at the smallest of sounds, making his disposition in the morning foul - but having his moment of solitude together with a glass of subpar cognac on the front of the empty deck of the zeppelin does wonders for his mood. The clouds are low and dense, the air chilly and humid, the wind trying to get into his buttoned up leather jacket.

"Just in time for the wedding," Gabriel speaks from the side, and Jack resolves he should put a bell on the man, to have at least an idea of his approach.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, I told you I was on my return trip." Jack rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"The peace accords were signed months ago. What was the reason for the expedition to Crimea?"

"Oh, yes, the peace accords, I heard about those," Jack pushes away from the balustrade and sits at the table. "Took me by surprise, because how could they be signed if Tsar is dead?"

"And how would you arrive at such conclusion?" Gabriel inclines his head, almost imperceptibly, moving to take place at the other side of the table.

"A séance." Hearing the quiet scoff, Jack continues, unbothered. "Not one of those sideshows. A spontaneous one."

"Why trust it?"

Jack spins the cognac in the glass.

"Because it's been the first time I've seen soulfire animate a corpse. Don't have to trust it now that I have proof for the Home Office, so we're stopping by the Diogenes first thing."

*

Bonus: (to keep the tradition of godawful dialogue for this specific au - don’t ask me about Jayne complaining about the vicar on the estate and how he spends his stipend)

So it's good that a glimpse of silver catches his eye out on the street: two Maltans outside of a hotel, both mounted on ridiculously embellished artificer's horses.

"Someone should tax the Vatican, the stones on them are worth as much as the horses themselves."

"Knightly Orders maintain their own upkeep after the tithe to the Vatican," Gabriel states matter-of-factly.

"Oh, excuse me for not keeping up with the latest Catholic lore."

"But," Gabriel continues, corners of his lips creeping upward, "someone should tax the Vatican."

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #work in progress wednesday #WIP Wednesday

[d125]

Türkiye...

Turkey, officially now called as The Republic of Türkiye, is a country mainly in Anatolia in West Asia, with a smaller part called East Thrace in Southeast Europe. Türkiye is one of the Transcontinental countries with diverse geography and is a part of Asia , Europe.

Since long it was in our Bucket List destinations to visit. We finally made this trip happen during 2023-year end. With the UK BRP’s in hand, we just had to apply for an E-Visa. Getting an E-Visa to visit the country and the immigration in and out was a breeze.

If one can avoid the conflict-ridden border areas of Turkey, the rest of the country has a lot to offer. Right from Istanbul (which is the largest city in Europe) to the Balloon Rides in Cappadocia , travertine terraces and thermal waters in Pamukkale, the country is enriched with wonders everywhere.

Turkiye is a huge country and we spent 2weeks in the country. We took a couple of domestic flights to cover the destinations we had in mind. We flew from Antalya from London and based ourselves for 4nights in Antalya followed by another 4nights in Cappadocia before spending the last 7nights in Istanbul.

As we reminisce our trip now, while Istanbul has all the glitz and glamour it is the natural wonders we saw that are etched as core memories. Thank you for the memories,

Turkey, officially now called as The Republic of Türkiye, is a country mainly in Anatolia in West Asia, with a smaller part called East Thrace in Southeast Europe. Türkiye is one of the Transcontinental countries with such diverse geography and is a part of Asia and Europe.

Since long it was in our Bucket List destinations to visit. We finally made this trip happen during 2023-year end. With the UK BRP’s we just had to apply for an E-Visa. Getting an E-Visa to visit the country and the immigration was a breeze.

If one can avoid the conflict-ridden border areas of Turkey, the rest of the country has a lot to offer. Right from Istanbul (which is the largest city in Europe) to the Balloon Rides in Cappadocia and travertine terraces and thermal waters in Pamukkale, the country is enriched with wonders everywhere.

Turkiye is a huge country and we spent 2weeks in the country. We took a couple of domestic flights to cover the destinations we had in mind. We flew from Antalya from London and based ourselves for 4nights in Antalya followed by another 4nights in Cappadocia before spending the last 7nights in Istanbul. As we reminisce our trip now, while Istanbul has all the glitz and glamour it is the natural wonders we saw that are etched as core memories.

Thank you for the memories, Türkiye

D

[xaniro]

Прывітанне, мой дарагі чытач. Вітаю цябе ў часопісе 'Запіскі Вандроўніка'.

Сёння я запрашаю цябе ў вялікае падарожжа з Поўначы Турэччыны аж да Грузіі.

Армагедон

Каб больш караценька - скажу так: Поўнач Турцыі неверагодна прыгожая.

Зусім іншая. Ад пейзажаў да людзей. Ад маўлення да ежы.

План з цікавымі лакацымі, гатэлямі і транспартам мы саставілі яшчэ дома, што раю і вам рабіць. Рукзакі на спіну  і наперад!

Hello, my dear reader.  I welcome you to the journal 'Traveler's notes.'

Today I invite you to a great journey in the North of Turkey all the way to Georgia.

Armageddon

In order to tell more briefly - I will say this: the North of Turkey is incredibly beautiful.

Completely different.  From landscapes to people.  From speech to food.

We have compiled a plan with interesting locations, hotels and transport, which I advise you to do as well.  Backpacks on the back and forward!

Па-першае,нам трэба было завітацца ў Істанбул. Спачатку былі справы, а потым яны адмяніліся. Мы вырашылі не губляць білеты і ляцець у неафіцыйную сталіцу Турэччыны.

Але ...

Вось як заўсёды, нічога і выдумваць не трэба. У дзень, калі ў нас быў вылет пачаўся нейкі армагедон. Спачатку ліў дождж. Потым біў гром ды маланкі такія, што нават падпрыгвалі з пуду. І што?

Так, пачалі адменьвацца рэйсы. То адзін, то другі, то трэці. Ну вы зразумелі.

Таму , калі ўсё ж такі рэйс падцвердзіўся мы паехалі ў аэрапорт.

Там яшчэ крыху і Вітаем, Істанбул.

It so happened that we had to visit Istanbul.  First there were cases, and then they were canceled.  We decided not to lose our tickets and fly to the unofficial capital of Turkey.

But...

As always, there is no need to invent anything.  On the day when we had a departure, some kind of armageddon began.  At first it rained.  Then there was thunder and lightning so that they even jumped out of the pod.  And what?  Yes, flights started to be canceled.  One, then the second, then the third.  Well, you got it.

Therefore, when the flight was confirmed, we went to the airport.

There is a little more and Welcome, Istanbul.

Істанбул

Мы прыехалі раніцай. З аэрапорта да цэнтра ідзе метро, што вельмі зручна. Спачатку трэба было купіць картку і папоўніць баланс. Гэтая ж картка падыходзіць і для аплаты праезду ў аўтобусе. Таксама можна аплочваць за абодвух.

Аўтобус

Вы глядзелі Гары Потэра? Памятаеце, калі ён сеў у аўтобус і мчаўся ў Лондан? Вось. Тое ж самае. Мы ляцелі на ўсіх парах, было вельмі страшна. Вуліцы вузенькія, застаўленыя машынамі, аўтобус вялікі. Інкалі кіроўца выскокваў і ругаўся з людзьмі ды іншымі кіроўцамі. Было і смешна і грэшна, як кажуць.

Мы дабраліся жывімі. Знайшлі свой гатэль, засяліліся, хоць ён і не спадабаўся. Таму раіць вам яго не буду. Сярэдні кошт гатэля на адну ноч 1000 лір.

Мы доўга гулялі па раёну з трамваем Ісцікляль. Там цудоўна, - зашмат людзей, бараў, крам. А яшчэ зашмат аховы каля кожнага касцёла ці царквы. /Бо, калі вы не ведаеце, былі тэракты ў бок каталіцкай царквы./

Так прайшла наша ноч. Павячэралі мы ў мараканскім кафэ. Нам спадабалася толькі гарбата. Потым пасядзелі ў бары. Вечар задаўся цудоўным. Канешне - вырашае з кім ты побач. Таму наматвайце на вус. Ну і канешне, завітайце да Істанбула. Горад хоць вельмі дарагі, ня ведаю, як там выжываюць людзі, але каштуе таго, каб на яго паглядзець.

Istanbul

We arrived in the morning.  There is a subway from the airport to the center, which is very convenient.  First, you need to buy a card and top up your balance.  The same card is also suitable for paying a bus fare.  You can also pay for both persons.

Bus

Have you watched 'Harry Potter'?  Remember when he got on the bus and raced to London? 

Well ... Here.  The same thing.  We flew on all steams, it was very scary.  The streets are narrow lined with cars, the bus is big.  Sometimes the driver would jump out and scream at people and other drivers.  It was both funny and sinful, as they say.

We made it there alive.  We found our hotel.  We settled in, even though we didn't like it.  Therefore, I will not advise you.  The average price of a hotel for one night is 1000 lira.

We walked around the district for a long time with the Istiklal tram.  It's wonderful there, lots of people, bars, shops.  And there is also a lot of security around every church.  /Recently if you don't know there were terrorist attacks towards the Catholic Church/

That's how our night went.  We had dinner in a Moroccan cafe.  We only liked the tea.  Then we sat at the bar.  The evening turned out to be wonderful.  Of course - it decides who you are with. And of course, visit Istanbul.  Although the city is very expensive, I don't know how people survive there, but it is worth to see it.

Трабзон

На гэты раз мы вылецелі ў час. Час у небе - каля гадзіны, мо паўтары. Туркіш эйрланс яшчэ прапануе невялічкі сэндвіч і напоі. Што напрыклад ужо знікае ў іншых авіакампаніях.

Трабзон невялічкі гарадок на Поўначы. Амывае яго чорнае мора. Так, яно вельмі адрозніваецца ад Серадземнага. Мы адразу вырашылі спачатку ўзяць машыну, а ўжо потым шукаць наш гатэль.

Праз хвілін 7 пешшу мы дайшлі да рэнта машыны. (Мы бралі ў Avec. Цудоўна працуюць, добрыя машыны і кошт).

Тут пачаўся дождж, менавіта той, што ліў у Анталіі. Ну а мы селі ў машынку, што абыйшлося нам ў 750 лір плюс 2000 залога, які ўжо вярнуўся, і паехалі глядзець Трабзон.

Першым пунктам быў батанічны сад. Цудоўнае невялічкае месца з аленямі, трусікамі, нейкімі птушкамі. Яны проста ходзюць сабе, глядзяць на людзей. Навокал кветкі розныя, дрэвы. Таксама на тэрыторыі ёсць кафэ, бібліятэка, прыбіральня. Ўсё гэта безкаштоўнае.

Вось так.

Надвор'е было такое сабе і мы пачалі шукаць месца для вячэры. Гэта было не так проста, бо Гугл карта падманвала. Але мы знайшлі наша мястэчка, якое зараз я раю ўсім!! Гэта неверагодны рэстаран Çınaraltı. Там цудоўныя супрацоўнікі, смачная ежа ды падарункі ў выглядзе блюд. І кошт такі танны, што мы былі ў прыемным шоцы. Абавязкова наведайце гэтае месца.

А мы паехалі ў гатэль. Гатэль знаходзіўся крыху далеч ад горада, але на машыне мо тры хвіліны. Таксама магу рэкамендаваць ' La perla blanca'. У нас быў нумар за 750 лір. Нас чакалі дзве вялікія комнаты. Засяліліся мы ўвечары і ўжо ў раніцы паехалі на іншую лакацыю, якую вельмі хацелі паглядзець - Панагія Сумела.

Манастыр

Дарога была нібыта ў казцы. Туман, кручоны серпантын, які ўзнімаў нас вышэй і вышэй. Быццам з малака выскаквалі горныя казлы, інадзі людзі, дамы. Дарогі амаль што не было відаць. Прыгажосць аж да дрыжыкаў.

А потым я ўпершыню села за руль.

Такое адчуванне, не перадаць. Мы даехалі да сярэдняй кропкі, горад Мачкі, адтуль яшчэ крыху і ўжо нас чакала маршрутка, якая давезла менавіта ў манастыр. (Сваім ходам аж да манастыру даехаць нельга. Там вялікія вароты і платны ўваход. Але маршрутка каштавала каля 40лір. І яшчэ адно - памятаеце пра муз.карту? Музейная карта - дык вось з ёй па амаль што ўсім музеям Турэччыны ты праходзіш безкаштоўна)!!

Trabzon

This time we flew back in time.  The time in the sky is about an hour, maybe an hour and a half.  Turkish Airlines also offers a small sandwich and drinks.  Which, for example, is already disappearing in other airlines.

Trabzon is a small town in the North.  It is washed by the black sea.  Yes, it is very different from the Mediterranean.  We immediately decided to take the car first, and then look for our hotel.

After 7 minutes of walking from the airport, we reached the car rental.  (We bought from Avec. Great work, good car and value).

Here it started to rain, exactly the kind that poured in Antalya.  Well, we got into the car, which cost us 750 lira plus a 2,000 deposit, which has already been returned, and went to see Trabzon.

The first point was the botanical garden.  A wonderful little place with deer, rabbits, some birds.  They just walk by themselves, look at people.  Various flowers and trees are around.  There is also a cafe, a library, and a toilet on the territory.  All this is free.

That's it.

The weather was so-so and we started looking for a place for dinner.  It was not so easy, because the Google map was deceiving.  But we found one and I recommend to everyone!!  This is an incredible Çınaraltı restaurant.  There are wonderful employees, delicious food and gifts in the form of dishes.  And the price is so cheap that we were pleasantly shocked.  Be sure to visit this place.

And we went to the hotel. 

The hotel was located a little far from the city, but it was a three-minute drive.  I can also recommend 'La perla blanca'.  We had a room for 750 lira.  Two large rooms awaited us.  We checked in in the evening and already in the morning we went to another location that we really wanted to see.

Monastery

The road was like in a fairy tale.  The fog, a twisting serpentine, which lifted us higher and higher.  It was as if mountain goats, sometimes people, houses jumped out of milk.  The road was almost invisible.  Beauty to the point of chills.

And then I sat behind the wheel for the first time.

Such a feeling cannot be conveyed.  We reached the middle point, the town of Machki, a little further from there and a minibus was waiting for us, which took us to the monastery.  (You can't go all the way to the monastery on your own. There are big gates and an entrance fee. But the minibus cost about 40 lira. And one more thing - do you remember the museum card? With it you can visit almost all museums in Turkey for free)!  !

Панагія сумела

Што ж. Гэта месца ўраджае. І сваім месцазнаходжаннем, і відамі, і архітэктурай, фрэскай. Нажаль, амаль што ўсе малюнкі знізу былі знішчаны мусульманамі і проста вандаламі. Але там, дзе не дасталі - раскрывалася прыгажосць, прастата і нейкая духоўная скромнасць. Намоленасць нельга знішчыць, ці выцарапаць. Яна застаецца ў каменні, у вачах, у сэрцы.

Таму вельмі рэкамендую завітаць у Трабзон. Паглядзець на цуд прыроды - батанічны сад ды парк. Смачна паесці ў

Чынаралты і адчуць святасць манастыру.

Panagia Sumela

Well.  This place is yielding.  And its location, and views, and architecture, fresco.  Unfortunately, almost all the pictures below were destroyed by Muslims and vandals.  But where they didn't get it, beauty, simplicity and a kind of spiritual modesty were revealed.  Supplication cannot be destroyed or scratched away.  It remains in the stone, in the eyes, in the heart.

Therefore, I highly recommend visiting Trabzon.  Look at the wonder of nature - the botanical garden and park.  It's delicious to eat in

Chinaralty and feel the sanctity of Sumela monastery.

Трабзон - Ван лаф.

З любоўю ў сэрцы, (с) Аксана Машара

У наступных запіскай працяг гісторыі аб Поўначы Турэччыны, а таксама падарожжа ў новую краіну.

Trabzon - One love.

With love in my heart, (c) Aksana Mashara.

In the next note, the continuation of the story about the North of Turkey, as well as a journey to a new country.

#travel #çınaraltı #turkey #north turkey #monastery #blog #xaniro #trip #nature #friends #life is traveling

[abdulshop-com]

Facts about Austria

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[wikiuntamed]

On this day in Wikipedia: Sunday, 3rd March

Welcome, velkomin, willkommen, fáilte 🤗 What does @Wikipedia say about 3rd March through the years 🏛️📜🗓️?

3rd March 2023 🗓️ : Death - Kenzaburō Ōe Kenzaburō Ōe, Japanese novelist, 1994 Nobel Prize laureate in Literature (b. 1935) "Kenzaburō Ōe (大江 健三郎, Ōe Kenzaburō, 31 January 1935 – 3 March 2023) was a Japanese writer and a major figure in contemporary Japanese literature. His novels, short stories and essays, strongly influenced by French and American literature and literary theory, deal with political, social and..."

Image licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0? by Thesupermat

3rd March 2019 🗓️ : Death - Peter Hurford Peter Hurford OBE, British organist and composer (b. 1930) "Peter John Hurford OBE (22 November 1930 – 3 March 2019) was a British organist and composer...."

3rd March 2014 🗓️ : Death - William Pogue William R. Pogue, American colonel, pilot, and astronaut (b. 1930) "William Reid "Bill" Pogue (January 23, 1930 – March 3, 2014) was an American astronaut and pilot who served in the United States Air Force (USAF) as a fighter pilot and test pilot, and reached the rank of colonel. He was also a teacher, public speaker and author. Born and educated in Oklahoma, Pogue..."

Image by NASA

3rd March 1974 🗓️ : Event - Turkish Airlines Flight 981 Turkish Airlines Flight 981 crashes at Ermenonville near Paris, France killing all 346 aboard. "Turkish Airlines Flight 981 (TK981/THY981) was a scheduled flight from Istanbul Yeşilköy Airport to London Heathrow Airport, with an intermediate stop at Orly Airport in Paris. On 3 March 1974, the McDonnell Douglas DC-10 operating the flight crashed into the Ermenonville Forest, (23.46 mi) (37.76..."

Image licensed under GFDL 1.2? by

Steve Fitzgerald

3rd March 1924 🗓️ : Event - Ottoman Caliphate The Ottoman Caliphate, the world's last widely recognized caliphate, was abolished. "The caliphate of the Ottoman Empire (Ottoman Turkish: خلافت مقامى, romanized: hilâfet makamı, lit. 'office of the caliphate') was the claim of the heads of the Turkish Ottoman dynasty to be the caliphs of Islam in the late medieval and early modern era. During the period of Ottoman expansion,..."

Image by TRAJAN 117

3rd March 1820 🗓️ : Event - United States Congress The U.S. Congress passed the Missouri Compromise, which balanced the admission of Missouri as a slave state with that of Maine as a free state. "The United States Congress is the legislature of the federal government of the United States. It is bicameral, composed of a lower body, the House of Representatives, and an upper body, the Senate. It meets in the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. Senators and representatives are chosen through..."

Image by Ipankonin

3rd March 🗓️ : Holiday - Christian feast day: Winwaloe "Winwaloe (Breton: Gwenole; French: Guénolé; Latin: Winwallus or Winwalœus; c. 460 – 3 March 532) was the founder and first abbot of Landévennec Abbey (literally "Lann of Venec"), also known as the Monastery of Winwaloe. It was just south of Brest in Brittany, now part of France. ..."

Image by Abgrall Jean-Marie (1846-1926)

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[brookstonalmanac]

Events 3.18 (after 1930)

1937 – The New London School explosion in New London, Texas, kills 300 people, mostly children. 1937 – Spanish Civil War: Spanish Republican forces defeat the Italians at the Battle of Guadalajara. 1938 – Mexico creates Pemex by expropriating all foreign-owned oil reserves and facilities. 1940 – World War II: Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini meet at the Brenner Pass in the Alps and agree to form an alliance against France and the United Kingdom. 1942 – The War Relocation Authority is established in the United States to take Japanese Americans into custody. 1944 – Mount Vesuvius in Italy erupts, killing 26 people, causing thousands to flee their homes, and destroying dozens of Allied bombers. 1948 – Soviet consultants leave Yugoslavia in the first sign of the Tito–Stalin split. 1953 – An earthquake hits western Turkey, killing at least 1,070 people. 1959 – The Hawaii Admission Act is signed into law. 1962 – The Évian Accords end the Algerian War of Independence, which had begun in 1954. 1965 – Cosmonaut Alexei Leonov, leaving his spacecraft Voskhod 2 for 12 minutes, becomes the first person to walk in space. 1966 – United Arab Airlines Flight 749 crashes on approach to Cairo International Airport in Cairo, Egypt, killing 30 people.[ 1967 – The supertanker Torrey Canyon runs aground off the Cornish coast. 1968 – Gold standard: The U.S. Congress repeals the requirement for a gold reserve to back US currency. 1969 – The United States begins secretly bombing the Sihanouk Trail in Cambodia, used by communist forces to infiltrate South Vietnam. 1970 – Lon Nol ousts Prince Norodom Sihanouk of Cambodia. 1971 – Peru: A landslide crashes into Yanawayin Lake, killing 200 people at the mining camp of Chungar. 1974 – Güzel İstanbul, a nude sculpture by Gürdal Duyar in Istanbul is torn down in the middle of the night.[ 1980 – A Vostok-2M rocket at Plesetsk Cosmodrome Site 43 explodes during a fueling operation, killing 48 people. 1990 – Germans in the German Democratic Republic vote in the first democratic elections in the former communist dictatorship. 1990 – In the largest art theft in US history, 12 paintings, collectively worth around $500 million, are stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. 1994 – Bosnia's Bosniaks and Croats sign the Washington Agreement, ending war between the Croatian Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia and the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and establishing the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. 1996 – A nightclub fire in Quezon City, Philippines kills 162 people. 1997 – The tail of a Russian Antonov An-24 charter plane breaks off while en route to Turkey, causing the plane to crash and killing all 50 people on board. 2014 – The parliaments of Russia and Crimea sign an accession treaty. 2015 – The Bardo National Museum in Tunisia is attacked by gunmen. Twenty-three people, almost all tourists, are killed, and at least 50 other people are wounded.

#Events

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

happy new year have a wip sample

December 24th, 2003

Scrooge would insist, onto pain of death, that it was the Tokyo rain that woke her up.

That was it. It had to be. It was lashing against the window with such a force, it had awoken her from her jetlag-induced coma. International travel had been a nightmare for the past two years, and she still wasn't entirely used to it. She'd had to have been at London-Heathrow at 3 AM to catch a flight to Warsaw to catch a flight to Istanbul to catch a flight to Beijing to catch a flight to Tokyo. It had been cheaper, yes, but it had resulted in her not getting much sleep. But it was cheaper. Yes, it was cheaper.

She'd gotten to her hotel in Tokyo and collapsed into bed. It had been the rain that woke her up.

It was certainly not rolling over and finding the other side of the bed empty.

Scrooge raised her head, first to look at the empty half of the bed, and then to look at the windows. Instead of her own bags and things, she saw a business suit tossed carelessly over a chair.

"Oh." She said, somewhat disappointed in herself. "I'm in his room."

It was a game they’d played for the last two years. They’d get two hotel rooms. It’d maintain the illusion nothing was happening between them. Even to themselves. Scrooge always told herself that nothing would happen, at least. The last time was the last time. They’d go back to respectability and propriety. There’d only be chaste disinterest and cold unavailability. They’d be decent, sober, respectable business partners.

And then she kept waking up in his bed. Or in her own, with him alongside her. One hotel room always seemed to get used, even when there were two. 

This would be the last time, at least.

Scrooge stretched under the blankets, disinclined to move even as she was disinclined to stay. She turned her head to look out the window. The rain lashed against the glass with a seasonal fury, a fork of lightning briefly illuminating the skyline before being followed by a roll of thunder. It was beastly weather, and Scrooge liked it.

She heard the sound of a keycard in the door. Scrooge stretched again, languid and uncaring as a cat. When Marley entered, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You certainly look snug and dry.” He grumbled.

He certainly didn’t. Marley was soaked to the bone. His dark hair was plastered down with rainwater like a cheap gangster’s hair. When it dried, it’d be as curly as anything. His coat made an unpleasant noise as he peeled it off, and he scowled at how wet the clothes were underneath. In his hand he held a plastic bag.

“I am quite dry.” Scrooge replied innocently. “Why ever did you go out in such a storm? You’ll have to pay for drycleaning.”

“It was either save money on drycleaning and starve, or bite the bullet and venture out.” He slid off a shoe and cursed at the damage.

“These are leather!”

“You should have worn rain boots.” Scrooge said serenely.

“Shut up, woman.” He said with only a little bite. “Or you’ll have none of the food.”

#jacob marley #scrooge x marley #ebenezer scrooge #a christmas carol #the christmas carol retelling thing #christmas carol #current wip