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Harry is really, really glad he didn't go into some depressive fit thing after Susan... you know.
He considered it. It was very tempting. But in the end... what good would it have done? Susan wouldn't want him to do it. Hell, if she'd popped out of the woodwork and he hadn't left the house in four months she'd probably have slapped him. So he forced himself to get his boots on every day and do his damn job. He found lost things. He worked on improving a few of his foci and enchanted objects and stuff. Cries most nights, but doesn't admit it, and that's been getting better. Recently he took a job protecting some kind of monastery from monkey demons.
A factor relevant to that particular job is currently napping in his coat pocket. He found the puppy there afterwards and tried to call that monk dude, but the monastery seemed to have vanished. Which was weird. But he got the puppy vetted by Bob and Father Forthill, and they said the little guy wasn't some kind of hellspawn, so... he kept him. Called him Mouse. Let him nap in his coat pocket. Mister got along with him, because Mouse wasn't big enough to be a threat to the big cat's authority.
Anyway, Mouse is napping in his coat pocket, and Harry just got out of the morgue looking at a corpse. He's pretty sure this is the work of some White Court bastard. The victim doesn't have a mark on him, but he's got the dopiest grin in human history. And Harry, being Harry, knows from dopey grins. So Harry sets out looking for a White Court vampire. Thomas doesn't know of any of his cousins who'd have gone after this guy (their official victims are dumped in a nearby quarry, apparently), so he's out investigating the red light district. And trying to look like someone who would be interested in a prostitute, instead of someone who would rather cut off his testicles with a spoon than lay a finger on a member of the oldest profession.
doing-the-right-thing
doing-the-right-thing
"Okay," Harry sighs. "I just... sorry. About that. There's other jobs you can get for feeding, you know. You could do massage, or something. At a parlor that isn't actually a brothel."
no-return
"I dunno. Most of the time I like this one. And it doesn't require, like, qualifications. It's easy."
doing-the-right-thing
"If I had a job that I liked that got me severely injured all the time, I'd- wait, I do. That's a bad example."
doing-the-right-thing
"But I'm getting hurt in the name of justice! You're doing it in the name of- orgasms, I guess. It's not the same thing!"
doing-the-right-thing
"Yes, but it's not as noble as saving people's lives. I guess your mileage may vary on that."
doing-the-right-thing
"Well, generally I find lost cats. But in between that, I save people's lives, yeah. I did stop that heart-exploding guy, if you'll recall. And the enormous wolf that was devouring people, and the ghost that was destroying people's brains. All in a day's work. Citizen."
no-return
He giggles.
"Well, good for you, I guess. I mean, saving people's lives isn't bad. It's just probably not as much fun as sex."
"Well, good for you, I guess. I mean, saving people's lives isn't bad. It's just probably not as much fun as sex."
no-return
"Hi! I haven't found a name I like, but apparently I'm some kind of soul-sucking sex vampire!"
doing-the-right-thing
"Some of my best friends are soul-sucking sexpires. Want a name? I'm good at those."
doing-the-right-thing
"How about... Captain. Captain Hook," Harry giggles. (It's not a mocking laugh, he's just really pleased with his awful pun.)
doing-the-right-thing
"Um. Thanks? I, I'm not sure how to respond to that, um. Sorry. I'm not- I don't really, I don't really, um. Uh."
no-return
"Aww, don't freak out, adorable wizard! It's not that big a deal, I just think you're really great is all."
doing-the-right-thing
Harry effortfully resumes normal breathing. "Interesting word choice. Sorry, I'm- jumpy, I guess."
no-return
"Why is that something to freak out about...? Never mind, I guess. I don't know, is the word choice that weird?"