For Eilidhsd, because I promised you a story.
“Number 8,” the elderly desk clerk wheezed, handing Napoleon the key. “Last cabin on the left. That'll be $6.49.”
Napoleon handed over the cash and waited patiently while the man, hands gnarled with age, counted out the change.
Behind him, Illya paced restlessly, fingering the brochures on the “Things To Do in Central Maine” rack with disinterest, and watching the snow fall outside the lobby's bay window. “Is there anyplace to eat around here?” he asked.
He waited, but it appeared no further information was forthcoming. “Where?”
“Well now –” The old man scratched his head. “– there's Connie's Diner. It's down the road a piece, next to the Bait and Tackle. Ay-yuh. Connie makes a nice fish chowdah on Tuesdays.”
“That sounds perfect. Could you please give us directions?”
“I could,” the man replied, “but 'twon't do ya no good.”
“Diner's closed foah the wintah. Ay-yuh.”
Illya sighed.( Read more... )