Eighth Casefile: Reversed Fortunes

[quicktoanger]

[Action: Your character's living room!]

I noticed a few problems immediately.

The first was that I wasn't outside of Johnny Marcone's office building. In fact, I wasn't even outside. I seemed to be in some sort of small apartment. 

The second was that I couldn't feel the Winter Mantle. Which sucked, because I had been in really, really rough shape.

The third was that I wasn't in really, really rough shape. In fact, I felt fine. The only thing that hurt was my back.

The fourth was that my back hurt. Specifically, my shoulderblades hurt. And I had the most peculiar feeling of deja vu, in the same way that getting dropped into molten steel gives you a peculiar feeling of warmth. That, and the familiarity of the apartment...

"Oh hell's bells, you cannot be serious."

[OOC: So for today's exceptionally late re-intro, enjoy 1 Harry Dresden, slightly confused, and appearing in somebody else's house for a change.]
 

Comments

And now I make up for the delay by being a giant shit again.

[quicktoanger]

Well. The defiant and unreasonably stubborn part of me wanted to find a way to further defy the jerk on principle.

However, there was a more rational part of me that pointed out what a crappy position I was really in to do that. I'd just have to let this guy get away with being an asshole, so I didn't try to resist as he tugged me to the door with that astonishingly strong grip.

That and it hurt. I mean, seriously. I'd forgotten just how sensitive the wings were. Damned inconvenient, that.

So since resistance was out of the question, I decided to vent my petty spite another way. Gathering my will, I began to look around for whatever device looked the most technologically sophisticated in the room.

"Alright, alright, I get the hint. I'm going. You really could have just asked, ya big goof."

It was a feeble attempt to annoy him further, but I wasn't on my A-game at that moment.

lolol it's okay!

[misterbrief]

[The room isn't highly decorated. As technologically inclined as the entire family is, without the presence of Bulma, there's not a lot. Vegeta has never required anything but the basics, and all the tech is in Bulla's room. His journal lies on the table in front of the couch, the most advanced thing in the room. The house is small, so as Harry is dragged across the living room, he should be able to see the fridge and the oven in the kitchen. A clock hangs on the wall, but that's pretty much it. The man doesn't even have a TV.]

That's right, you're going. [When he gets to the front door, he opens it and glares back at Harry.] Out.