Goodsir takes stock of his practicals.
Before Antony is dispatched to Rome, he and Caesar have some business to settle.
Sui Zhou's WeChat starts firing off around midday, which does at least immediately pare down the pool of potential suspects.
Little wakes from unconsciousness into different company.
(What urge will save him now that sex won't?)
“You missed the discussion conference,” Jiang Cheng snaps back at him, whipping his head up stiffly from his perfunctory bow.
Nie Huaisang’s smile doesn’t waver, his entire expression perfectly, painstakingly polite. He looks pale, but anyone of his mettle would, clad in the violent contrast of silver and black. It all relinquishes nothing to Jiang Cheng but the means to inflame his irritation for the situation and for himself. He had left the conference too quickly to contemplate his …
“You missed the discussion conference,” Jiang Cheng snaps back at him, whipping his head up stiffly from his perfunctory bow.
Nie Huaisang’s smile doesn’t waver, his entire expression perfectly, painstakingly polite. He looks pale, but anyone of his mettle would, clad in the violent contrast of silver and black. It all relinquishes nothing to Jiang Cheng but the means to inflame his irritation for the situation and for himself. He had left the conference too quickly to contemplate his choice, and now, in Qinghe Nie’s main hall, he’s slowed down enough for the whiplash of regret to be both immediate and immense.
William Gibson has a past, but Cornelius Hickey has a future.
Henry Bolingbroke is an absurdly youthful jousting champion and a man of few words. But his cousin is King of England, so that has to count for something.
Aumerle lives to regret many things.
Claudius picks just about the worst possible time to ship his nephew off to England. Hal benefits from the diversion.