(no subject)

[amicably_absent]

Glitch took the morning to go over the maps and listen to the instructions on how to get there. He had a written list even, and DG wrote "List in pocket" on his hand to make sure he didn't forget.

He set out at eleven to get there by twelve thirty. One of the maids was conscripted to tail him at a discreet distance to make sure he didn't get too lost, and to put him back on track if he wasn't going to get there in time.

The instructions were fairly basic. Out the gate. Down the main road to the second major intersection. Go East until you see the big tin star sign.

It was marked and signposted.

At twelve twenty, the maid led Glitch out of petstore where he had managed to get distracted from what he as doing and took him back to the police headquarters, pointing it out to him and gently pushing him in the right direction.

At twelve thirty five, Glitch came in, navigating through the crowds of shouting people and trying to peek over to them to see if Wyatt's around. "Cain?"

Someone pushes him aside. "Citizens before headcases!"

"Watch it, that's Adviser Ambrose from the palace," someone else hisses. "The Queen's personal adviser."

"Master Ambrose?" Someone else says. "From the paper?"

Glitch wasn't sure what was worse. Being an anonymous headcase or a well known one. "Cain!"

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[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

There's movement beyond the tinted glass doors that lead further into the building and the actual office space where Tin Men young and old have worked hard for times immemorial. Then, noises and the din of voices carrying over the sound of ringing farspeakers and the clickety-click of manual messenger machines. And then one of the doors open up, and through it steps Detective Inspector Cain himself. If you start hearing the word headcase and zipper-head murmur its way through the corridors, it's time to go investigating before something bad happens. You never know these days.

Not to mention, with his lunch date drawing close, it feels like too much of a coincidence to suddenly hear talk of a zipper-head at the station.


He beams at the sight, holding out his arms. "Glitch! What are you doing out here?"