001 - In which Howl is Pulled from Elsewhere

[likepaleglass]

[A man’s voice, louder than it should be.]

Sophie! SOPHIE.

[A man flickers into view on camera. He’s decidedly handsome, well-groomed and dressed, a blue jewel hanging from one ear. One might almost be able to smell a whiff of hyacinth perfume. For a moment he turns the NV over and around in his hands until the viewer just gets a jumble of him – flashes of hair and hands and eyes that are strangely pale, green, reflective like glass. Finally the window comes to rest on him again, and he is glaring.]

Never hire a cleaning lady. If they come nosing their way into your life, boot them out the door, as you value your sanity.

[Hard to say if he knows he’s talking to you. In all honesty, it probably doesn’t matter. He pushes the hair back from his face, handsomely perturbed.]

All right, since there seems to be no immediate way back: I’ll need the nearest junkyard. Preferably magical. Non-magical will do in a pinch, though I’ll have to recreate my notes.

Also: A book of poetry. Promptly.

Comments

[likepaleglass]

It is when it requires the wearing of coats.

Horrible, puffy coats.

[towerlocked]

It sounds more like the fault of a seamstress. I have known winter coats to look lovely in the right hands.

[likepaleglass]

Quite right!

Apparently they have none of these in Canada.

[towerlocked]

On the contrary, sir, I am skilled with a needle.

[likepaleglass]

You must start saving Canada at once.

For its own good.

[towerlocked]

I will do my best.