Ficlet: The Dresden Files: Down Under
Written for fanfic50, cross posted to dresdenfic.
Title: Down Under
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 11. Underground
Word Count: 436
Rating: G
Summary: Harry finds himself in a distasteful situation.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry looked left and then right. He even looked up to make certain there weren't any surprises lurking there, either. Down, however, he was studiously ignoring.
Shrugging the strap of the leather bag from his shoulder, he reached inside and pulled the bony contents into the murky light. "Okay, Bob. Coast's clear," he told the rune-ensorcelled human skull. "Come on out."
The hollow eyes flared with orange flame. "You cannot be serious!"
"I'm dead serious. As in, I'm really trying to avoid the 'dead' part," said Harry.
"But why here of all places?"
"I'm not too crazy about it either, okay? But it's probably the only way in that doesn't have half a dozen goons watching it. That, and by the time we get there, my scent won't scream 'wizard'."
"You hope."
"Even odds."
"If I might point out, you failed math. Twice. You wouldn't know an 'even' odd if it bit you on--"
"Will you just get out here already?!"
A martyred sigh came from within the skull, closely followed by, "Oh, very well."
A flash of black and orange flame swirled out of the grim artifact. Bob materialized in its wake, a stiffly elegant and disapproving visage in an impeccably tailored blue suit.
"Wait a minute." Harry frowned at the ghost. "Since when are you taller than me?"
Bob quirked a tiny smile and mutely pointed downward. The one direction Harry had been avoiding. He looked now and winced. Sewage and slime oozed across the ground, completely obscuring the underlying concrete and brick. The sludge had already swallowed the soles of Harry's boots and was steadily inching higher. Bob's polished black shoes, on the other hand, were completely unscathed; a simple enough feat, since he literally 'stood' a full inch above the tide of offal.
"You've got to be kidding! It's not like this shit can actually touch you or anything."
"It's the principal of the thing. Since I have the ability to rise above the situation--"
"Go ahead and rub it in."
"Thank you, no. I'd really rather not." Bob wrinkled his aristocratic nose as an oily bit of fur and gristle oozed by them. "For the moment, I am also exceedingly grateful that I no longer possess a sense of smell."
"Go you," grumbled Harry, who had no choice but to breath in the reeking stench of decay and excrement.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Just start walking. The sooner we're on the other side, the better."
"I would hardly call a pack of rabid lycanthropes 'better'."
"Maybe not." Harry winced and pinched his nose closed. "But even they can't smell this bad."
Title: Down Under
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 11. Underground
Word Count: 436
Rating: G
Summary: Harry finds himself in a distasteful situation.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry looked left and then right. He even looked up to make certain there weren't any surprises lurking there, either. Down, however, he was studiously ignoring.
Shrugging the strap of the leather bag from his shoulder, he reached inside and pulled the bony contents into the murky light. "Okay, Bob. Coast's clear," he told the rune-ensorcelled human skull. "Come on out."
The hollow eyes flared with orange flame. "You cannot be serious!"
"I'm dead serious. As in, I'm really trying to avoid the 'dead' part," said Harry.
"But why here of all places?"
"I'm not too crazy about it either, okay? But it's probably the only way in that doesn't have half a dozen goons watching it. That, and by the time we get there, my scent won't scream 'wizard'."
"You hope."
"Even odds."
"If I might point out, you failed math. Twice. You wouldn't know an 'even' odd if it bit you on--"
"Will you just get out here already?!"
A martyred sigh came from within the skull, closely followed by, "Oh, very well."
A flash of black and orange flame swirled out of the grim artifact. Bob materialized in its wake, a stiffly elegant and disapproving visage in an impeccably tailored blue suit.
"Wait a minute." Harry frowned at the ghost. "Since when are you taller than me?"
Bob quirked a tiny smile and mutely pointed downward. The one direction Harry had been avoiding. He looked now and winced. Sewage and slime oozed across the ground, completely obscuring the underlying concrete and brick. The sludge had already swallowed the soles of Harry's boots and was steadily inching higher. Bob's polished black shoes, on the other hand, were completely unscathed; a simple enough feat, since he literally 'stood' a full inch above the tide of offal.
"You've got to be kidding! It's not like this shit can actually touch you or anything."
"It's the principal of the thing. Since I have the ability to rise above the situation--"
"Go ahead and rub it in."
"Thank you, no. I'd really rather not." Bob wrinkled his aristocratic nose as an oily bit of fur and gristle oozed by them. "For the moment, I am also exceedingly grateful that I no longer possess a sense of smell."
"Go you," grumbled Harry, who had no choice but to breath in the reeking stench of decay and excrement.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Just start walking. The sooner we're on the other side, the better."
"I would hardly call a pack of rabid lycanthropes 'better'."
"Maybe not." Harry winced and pinched his nose closed. "But even they can't smell this bad."