Tim Was Dead. And He's Always Been

For Adam, Screwed-up Bonding Thing Or Not, I’d Wait Forever. “really?” He Asked In A Tone I’d Never Heard From Him Before. Softer. Vulnerable. Adam Didn’t Do Vulnerable. “really What?” I Asked. “despite The Way Our Bond Scares You, Despite The Way Someone In The Pack Played You, You’d Still Have Me?” He'd Been Listening To My Thoughts. This Time It Didn't Bother Me. “adam,” I Told Him, “i’d Walk Barefoot Over Hot Coals For You.

Is It Like A Harry Potter Thing?" He Turned His Head Then. "a What?" "a Harry Potter Thing," She Said Again. "you Know, Don't Say Voldemort's Name Because You Might Attract His Attention?" He Considered It. "you Mean The Children's Book." "i Have Got To Get You To Watch More Movies," She Said. "you'd Enjoy These. Yes, I Mean The Children's Book.

"i Thought Indians Built Fires With Fiction." .... "i Can Do That, But I'd Like To Eat Sometime In The Next Day Or So. Sterno And Bic Are Much Faster."

And Thus Charles Found Himself Wandering Around A Hotel, Trailing Federal Agents As He Held A Cardboard Coffee Cup Holder In Each Hand, Instead Of Out Killing Misbehaving Werewolves.

I Am The Reality Of All Coyotes. The Archetype. The Epitome. You Are Just A Reflection Of Me.