Unpleasant things happen to Jim Halsey, several times in a row but not in any particular order.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up in this line of work, but this might be the worst he’s ever done it.

Crozier experiences some uncharitable thoughts in light of one particular shortcoming.

After a long day of administering ethically dubious tests, it's time to hit the showers.

"I suppose it's safe to assume you aren't here to ransom me."

Poins kills a man; the rest doesn't matter, and the prince must carry on.

With their house's liveliness lapsed to quiet, and the looming summer rain hanging heavy in the air, Tang Fan seizes upon a temptingly rare proposition of opportunity.

Each man grieves in his own fashion.

"Tang Fan," she starts carefully.

Tang Fan has no such concern. "Sui Zhou," is her counter. She dumps their bag at her feet, where its gaped mouth is swiftly fed her belt and chopsticks. "Your poor delicate Qing'er," she complains. "I will find a man and his wife to show me the pity here that you won't."

Too late for Christmas, too early for the new year. (Or, Hal makes himself inconvenient in as many ways as possible.)