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The rain falls like white noise: a soft and curiously enveloping sound, like all of grey, grey London sighing hush. The headlights of cars glow like halos outside the bookshop window, and their tyres swish softly down the road, and Crowley imagines that - even inside - he can still taste the sharp, clean smell coming off the uneven Soho cobbles. ( Read more... ) -
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There's nothing unusual about the room. Of course, it would be hard for any room to be unusual by Milliways' standards, but this could pass for a hotel a back home - albeit an old-fashioned one, with wooden floors, exposed beams, a fireplace. A bed, bedside tables, a pair of armchairs; everything utterly unremarkable ( Read more... ) -
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The attack hasn't hit the feeds yet; it won't until tonight. But news travels fast, when you're the kind of person that pays it to, and even faster when it's close to home.
Metaphorically speaking.
The red light is flashing on Simon's commbox - three short, three long, three short.
Someone's hoping the doctor is on call. -
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It's shading towards sunset, and the pink and gold light that streams in through the windows makes Crowley's Lavinia apartment look warmer, less sterile than usual. In fact, so well do the stylishly neutral tones pick up the evening glow that the place, usually so impersonal, looks positively welcoming. This, however, is in stark contrast to the ( Read more... ) -
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[From here.]As always (although the layout of the upper floors of Milliways doesn't seem to make much sense to anyone accustomed only to the usual three dimensions), they find their room without too much difficulty ( Read more... )
