The captain sees something in him, and he doesn't like it.
Well, it's not quite a hairshirt.
Unpleasant things happen to Jim Halsey, several times in a row but not in any particular order.
Goodsir takes stock of his practicals.
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.
Some guys just can't resist doing a comrade a favor.
Intrepid ad man Pete Campbell plunges into the twilit homosexual underworld of New York City in search of answers. Bob Benson helps.
"If you have a choice in not having a choice about coming,” Fu Meng-po says, eyebrows cocked out from behind the frame of his sunglasses, “then it's not a kidnapping."
“You’re not fun,” Kuan-hung complains. “At all.”
Given such a tender gift, how can Seimei not tease him?
How many nights has he entertained this very vision of Tang Fan, all lean long lines and li after li of smooth skin? Most, in some shape or another, since Tang Fan first stormed into his life and made his home in what wreckage he found there. Too many, but so few. To have it now, real enough to see, too far from reach to touch— it’s agony.