I’m so exhausted today. But I’m hopefully applying for my MA soon! So, yay!
This is the only night of the year that Bert allow us to wear black to work. He thinks the colour is too harsh for normal business hours. I had black jeans and a Halloween sweater with huge grinning jack o’lanterns in a stomach-high line.
Okay, let’s imagine for a moment that I have hired someone to raise the body of my dearly departed great-grandmother. I would ask for my money back if they turned up in a jumper with pumpkins on. It is not professional. It does not inspire confidence in their abilities.
Anita phones Karl Inger and tells him that she’s willing to hand JC over to Mr. Oliver.
“The Master of the City is Jean-Claude.”
“I had discounted him. He isn’t very powerful.”
Killing JC might kill Anita, but he’s an asshole so it’s okay. She also tells Oliver about Melanie the not-lamia is in league with Aztec Joe, and that the not-lamia is trying to breed. Anita tells him to stroll on down to Circus of the Damned and shred all of JC’s shirts and roll around in the debris.
I stared at the phone. I’d had to do it. Had to. So why did my stomach feel tight? Why did I have the urge to call Jean-Claude and warn him? Was it the marks, or was Richard right? Did I love Jean-Claude in some strange, twisted way? God help me, I hoped not.
The Doctor help me, I hope not.