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section7mfuAnd done!
Title: The Peaceful Meadows Affair, epilogue
Summary: Wrapping things up....
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: Thank you so much for your amazing interest in this piece! I'm honored that so many have enjoyed it. I've had fun writing it. At the end of this story, I will include a slight plug for the next one. I can't say for sure that I'm starting a series, but at least there will be one more. Lucius Bowen, by the way, is a character from The Fugitive episode Masquerade, where he is called by the nickname Pinto. I've used him in some of my older U.N.C.L.E. pieces and on a whim, decided to bring him in here. His backstory is the same in this piece, but otherwise the old U.N.C.L.E. vignette series How Do You Like Them Apples? is unconnected here, since it tells a different version of the incident of Illya being stalked.
Epilogue
Peaceful Meadows looked somewhat strange in the early morning hours, when the U.N.C.L.E. team arrived. Mr. Waverly strolled out ahead, studying the wide-open gates, the vacant office, and the signs that many people had trouped up and down the street during the night, scattering paper and garbage to the wind.
“Pretty sloppy for a gated community,” remarked Lucius Bowen, one of the agents who had come with the team.
“I would say that they have been celebrating their freedom from the leaders of this particular gated community,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Heh.” Lucius, a former hired gun whom Mr. Waverly had reluctantly recruited due to the valuable world-saving information he held, looped his thumbs through his belt and smirked. “And now where do you think Solo and Kuryakin have got themselves?”
“Mr. Kuryakin said that they would be staying with Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye for the night,” Mr. Waverly replied. “They thought it would be safer if they remained together.”
“Probably right, if there’s any stragglers around who wouldn’t like the mess they’ve made,” Lucius said. “On the other hand, maybe they’re out hunting.”
“Let’s check the house first,” Mr. Waverly said. “Especially since I didn’t receive any communication changing those plans.”
They strolled through the streets, keeping alert for any sign of trouble. When they reached the correct street, Mr. Waverly and Lucius looked for 233. They soon spotted it, but not because of the house number.
“Good Heavens,” Mr. Waverly exclaimed, staring at the front yard.
Lucius gave a low whistle. “I’m not sure whether to say that’s creative or spooky.”
“I would say rebellious,” Mr. Waverly mused. “Perhaps it was their way of participating in the celebration.” He walked up the steps to the porch and rang the doorbell.
Napoleon soon opened it, standing with his suit coat off and his dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. “Oh . . . good morning, Mr. Waverly,” he greeted, hurrying to button the shirt and tighten the tie. “Mr. Bowen.” He nodded to Lucius, who gave him a mock salute in return.
“Mr. Solo.” Mr. Waverly stepped into the entryway. “What is the meaning of that display out in front?”
“Oh. That.” Napoleon pulled the door shut after Lucius entered. “Well, Sir, we were taking shifts throughout the night, staying on guard for trouble, and we decided to do something to pass the time. That was a quiet activity.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s one word for it.
“And how is Mr. Ecks?” Mr. Waverly asked. “Is he feeling any better today?”
“Much,” Ecks grunted, shuffling to the doorway and blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Are you Mr. Waverly?”
“Yes.” Mr. Waverly crossed the room and shook his hand. “So you are the elusive Mr. Ecks, the fellow who was stalking Mr. Kuryakin in New York.”
“Only for a few weeks, and not for any ill purpose,” Ecks hurried to say.
“I remember Mr. Kuryakin’s report after he finally chose to tell me that he had encountered you,” Mr. Waverly said. “So what is it that you and Mr. Wye do now, besides look for missing people?”
Ecks shot a questioning look at Napoleon, who just shrugged. “This and that,” he said.
“They bill themselves as consultants and troubleshooters,” Napoleon offered.
“I see,” Mr. Waverly mused. “That could cover a wide range of activities.”
“And it usually does,” Illya said, coming into the room. “Good morning, Sir.”
“Good morning, Mr. Kuryakin,” Mr. Waverly returned.
Wye was right behind him. “Top of the morning to you, Sir,” he said to Mr. Waverly.
Mr. Waverly nodded. “The same to you, Mr. Wye, I presume.”
“That’s right. It’s been quite a night here, I’ll tell you that.” Wye glanced back towards the study.
Napoleon stepped forward. “We have a prisoner here who was a part of the schemes to cause trouble for us,” he said. “Marietta Crabtree, or rather, Rebecca Apple.”
Mr. Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “Really now.”
Lucius stared too. “Her name is really Apple?”
“It seems to be,” Napoleon said.
“She was in it because Mr. Pea promised to tell her about her sister,” Illya said. “We’ve been all over the house looking for his files without success.”
“And the lady’s tied up in the study,” Wye said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
“Well, we’ll have to bring her along with us,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Her part really wasn’t very large,” said Napoleon. “I doubt there’s much more she can tell us.”
“Probably not, but we have to be sure,” Mr. Waverly said. “Mr. Bowen, will you take care of relieving the young lady of her bonds?”
“Sure thing.” Lucius headed off down the hall.
“And we’ve got to see about getting paid,” Wye said. “You haven’t seen the Jensens out there, have you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Come to think of it, this was Martin’s house,” Wye mused. “Maybe since we’re occupying it, they went next-door.”
“That’s possible,” Napoleon nodded.
“We’ll go check.” Wye headed for the door, Ecks trailing after him.
“We’ll all check,” Mr. Waverly said as Lucius came back holding Marietta by her upper arm.
“You had a peaceful night’s rest, I trust,” Napoleon said to her.
“It could have been a lot more peaceful if I hadn’t been on that chair,” Marietta retorted.
“Well,” Napoleon said, “you know why we did it.”
“Yes,” Marietta said in resignation, “and I probably deserved it.”
“Just be grateful you didn’t get worse,” Wye said. “You could have, you know.”
She nodded. “You could have shot me or Mr. Ecks could have stabbed me.”
“Not without provocation, you understand,” Wye said.
“Hey,” Lucius interrupted, peering into the kitchen and seeing the dishes strung everywhere, “you got any apples?”
“Don’t tell me you ran out,” Napoleon quipped.
“Nah, but if you got any, I want to make sure they don’t go to waste,” Lucius retorted.
Ecks gave him a weird look. “We’ll get all the food out of here,” he said.
“And next-door as well, if there is any left,” Illya added.
Napoleon went over to Ecks while Mr. Waverly began to question Marietta. “Mr. Bowen has a thing for apples,” he said low. “We rarely see him without one.”
Ecks smirked a bit. “Well, everyone needs a hobby.” He paused. “Thank you for not revealing what Wye and I are really doing. We weren’t sure what else to do with our lives.”
“I think we can cut you some slack on that illegal private-eye business,” Napoleon said. “Apparently Illya thinks so too. And I’m sure Mr. Waverly can read between the lines. As long as you don’t go back to the spy business, it should be alright.”
Ecks nodded. “I don’t think any spy organization would take us anyway, not after we betrayed the place we were already working for.”
“Probably not,” Napoleon agreed.
“But thank you anyway,” Ecks said, and Wye, who was coming over now, nodded in agreement.
“Just don’t make us regret it,” Illya grunted.
“We won’t,” Wye promised.
Mr. Waverly looked up from his conversation with Marietta. “We’re going to go look for Mr. Pea’s files now, as well as to find the Jensens.”
“Good,” said Napoleon.
“Hopefully we’ll find them somewhere in the office,” Mr. Waverly said. “We’ll have to retrieve your communication devices as well, if he didn’t destroy them.”
“He’d probably hang on to them to see how they work,” Wye said.
“Yes; that’s what I assumed,” Mr. Waverly said.
They stepped outside, passing the sea of colorful paper flamingos that decorated the front yard.
“I should take a picture of this,” Napoleon remarked. “A memento of The Peaceful Meadows Affair.”
“We’ll do it on the way back,” Illya said. “Not that you will need such a memento to remember this case.”
“True, but I’d like it for my scrapbook anyway,” Napoleon shrugged.
“You are sentimental,” Illya grunted. “Why not take the entire flock?”
“Oh, but they look so nice here,” Napoleon said. “Defying the rules for all to see.”
Illya just rolled his eyes, but secretly he was amused. Really, he had probably crafted more of the things than any of the others. After this case, it felt good to defy rules that were ridiculous.
“And how about Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye?” Napoleon remarked, looking to where they had found Jennifer next-door and were apparently discussing prices with her. “I noticed you went along with their cover story.”
“Not that Mr. Waverly was fooled,” Illya said. “But there are so many worse things to worry about than those two practicing private investigating without a license. We should still keep an eye on them, but perhaps it isn’t necessary to do so all the time.”
“I agree,” said Napoleon.
“And I am fairly certain our paths are going to cross again, even if not on purpose,” Illya added.
“After all the times we’ve met so far, I imagine that’s a fair assumption,” Napoleon said.
“Mr. Solo! Mr. Kuryakin!”
They both looked up with a start at Mr. Waverly’s sudden cry. He was talking to another agent who had arrived, a stack of folders clutched in his hand.
“You found them?” Napoleon exclaimed, hurrying over to look.
Illya was right with him. “Where?”
“In the second car Mr. Pea was keeping locked in his garage,” Mr. Waverly explained. “It was in a secret compartment behind the front seat. There is a mention of Ms. Cue in here. It gives her last known address and mentions Mr. Pea contacted her after the fall of their organization.”
Marietta, still on the street and being restrained by Lucius, stared with wondering delight. “Then there really is still hope!” she breathed. “Where is she?”
Mr. Waverly rechecked the information. “It says here that she left Paris after the organization collapsed and moved to Los Angeles,” he announced. Looking up, he said, “Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin?”
“We’ll take the case, Sir,” Napoleon said. “Effective immediately?”
“Oh, I suppose you could have a bit of a break before you prepare to head down to Los Angeles,” Mr. Waverly said. “If you agree to make the 8 o’clock flight.”
“That’s 8 P.M.?” Napoleon said, wanting to make sure he understood.
“Naturally,” Mr. Waverly replied. “Unless you think you could make the one at 8 A.M.”
“I think we’ll pass on that,” Napoleon said quickly.
“I thought you might.” Mr. Waverly looked over as Ecks and Wye came down from the porch and over to the group on the sidewalk. “I also thought perhaps you two gentlemen would like to go to Los Angeles with them to retrieve Ms. Cue. She liked you both; you might have a better chance of getting through to her than Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin here.”
Ecks and Wye exchanged an amazed look. “Would we be gettin’ paid for that service, if we agreed?” Wye asked.
“We would come to some type of arrangement,” Mr. Waverly nodded. “We generally try to compensate those who assist our agents.”
“We’ll do it,” Ecks blurted, and Wye was in full agreement.
“Then our paths will cross again much sooner than we even expected,” said Napoleon.
“Typical,” said Illya.
“Just one thing, though,” Napoleon said. “No more throwing expensive equipment into garbage cans, alright?”
Ecks smirked at him. “Then no more planting any expensive equipment to spy on us.”
Napoleon and Illya pretended to exchange a look. “It’s a deal,” Illya said.
“What’s this about expensive equipment being thrown in garbage cans?” Mr. Waverly frowned.
“Oh, don’t worry, Sir. We got it out,” Napoleon hastened to say.
“And it still works,” Illya added.
“I would hope so!” Mr. Waverly grumped. “We can’t afford any other expenses on our budget, particularly with your penchant for ruining perfectly good suits on assignments, Mr. Solo.”
Illya had to smirk in amusement. Both Ecks and Wye were staring at Napoleon in disbelief.
“Just how many suits do you ruin on a typical assignment?” Wye asked.
Napoleon cleared his throat in discomfort. “Ahem . . . I’d rather not talk about it.”
“So would I,” Mr. Waverly grunted. “Let’s discuss your new assignment instead.”
They headed up the street, looking to the houses as people began to emerge, well-rested and happy. The dark shadow of Peaceful Meadows had passed. If it would continue to exist once the investigation was over, it would be as a different type of gated community, one with rules put together and agreed on by all of the people. And if an infraction were broken, the people would work together to help the offender get their house back in order.
Meanwhile, the U.N.C.L.E. agents and their former enemies were pondering on what would await them in Los Angeles. The Fifty Millionth Frenchman Affair would prove to be a most unexpected and twisted case.
But then again, most of their cases ended up that same way.
Title: The Peaceful Meadows Affair, epilogue
Summary: Wrapping things up....
Notes: Thank you so much for your amazing interest in this piece! I'm honored that so many have enjoyed it. I've had fun writing it. At the end of this story, I will include a slight plug for the next one. I can't say for sure that I'm starting a series, but at least there will be one more. Lucius Bowen, by the way, is a character from The Fugitive episode Masquerade, where he is called by the nickname Pinto. I've used him in some of my older U.N.C.L.E. pieces and on a whim, decided to bring him in here. His backstory is the same in this piece, but otherwise the old U.N.C.L.E. vignette series How Do You Like Them Apples? is unconnected here, since it tells a different version of the incident of Illya being stalked.
Epilogue
Peaceful Meadows looked somewhat strange in the early morning hours, when the U.N.C.L.E. team arrived. Mr. Waverly strolled out ahead, studying the wide-open gates, the vacant office, and the signs that many people had trouped up and down the street during the night, scattering paper and garbage to the wind.
“Pretty sloppy for a gated community,” remarked Lucius Bowen, one of the agents who had come with the team.
“I would say that they have been celebrating their freedom from the leaders of this particular gated community,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Heh.” Lucius, a former hired gun whom Mr. Waverly had reluctantly recruited due to the valuable world-saving information he held, looped his thumbs through his belt and smirked. “And now where do you think Solo and Kuryakin have got themselves?”
“Mr. Kuryakin said that they would be staying with Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye for the night,” Mr. Waverly replied. “They thought it would be safer if they remained together.”
“Probably right, if there’s any stragglers around who wouldn’t like the mess they’ve made,” Lucius said. “On the other hand, maybe they’re out hunting.”
“Let’s check the house first,” Mr. Waverly said. “Especially since I didn’t receive any communication changing those plans.”
They strolled through the streets, keeping alert for any sign of trouble. When they reached the correct street, Mr. Waverly and Lucius looked for 233. They soon spotted it, but not because of the house number.
“Good Heavens,” Mr. Waverly exclaimed, staring at the front yard.
Lucius gave a low whistle. “I’m not sure whether to say that’s creative or spooky.”
“I would say rebellious,” Mr. Waverly mused. “Perhaps it was their way of participating in the celebration.” He walked up the steps to the porch and rang the doorbell.
Napoleon soon opened it, standing with his suit coat off and his dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. “Oh . . . good morning, Mr. Waverly,” he greeted, hurrying to button the shirt and tighten the tie. “Mr. Bowen.” He nodded to Lucius, who gave him a mock salute in return.
“Mr. Solo.” Mr. Waverly stepped into the entryway. “What is the meaning of that display out in front?”
“Oh. That.” Napoleon pulled the door shut after Lucius entered. “Well, Sir, we were taking shifts throughout the night, staying on guard for trouble, and we decided to do something to pass the time. That was a quiet activity.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s one word for it.
“And how is Mr. Ecks?” Mr. Waverly asked. “Is he feeling any better today?”
“Much,” Ecks grunted, shuffling to the doorway and blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Are you Mr. Waverly?”
“Yes.” Mr. Waverly crossed the room and shook his hand. “So you are the elusive Mr. Ecks, the fellow who was stalking Mr. Kuryakin in New York.”
“Only for a few weeks, and not for any ill purpose,” Ecks hurried to say.
“I remember Mr. Kuryakin’s report after he finally chose to tell me that he had encountered you,” Mr. Waverly said. “So what is it that you and Mr. Wye do now, besides look for missing people?”
Ecks shot a questioning look at Napoleon, who just shrugged. “This and that,” he said.
“They bill themselves as consultants and troubleshooters,” Napoleon offered.
“I see,” Mr. Waverly mused. “That could cover a wide range of activities.”
“And it usually does,” Illya said, coming into the room. “Good morning, Sir.”
“Good morning, Mr. Kuryakin,” Mr. Waverly returned.
Wye was right behind him. “Top of the morning to you, Sir,” he said to Mr. Waverly.
Mr. Waverly nodded. “The same to you, Mr. Wye, I presume.”
“That’s right. It’s been quite a night here, I’ll tell you that.” Wye glanced back towards the study.
Napoleon stepped forward. “We have a prisoner here who was a part of the schemes to cause trouble for us,” he said. “Marietta Crabtree, or rather, Rebecca Apple.”
Mr. Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “Really now.”
Lucius stared too. “Her name is really Apple?”
“It seems to be,” Napoleon said.
“She was in it because Mr. Pea promised to tell her about her sister,” Illya said. “We’ve been all over the house looking for his files without success.”
“And the lady’s tied up in the study,” Wye said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
“Well, we’ll have to bring her along with us,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Her part really wasn’t very large,” said Napoleon. “I doubt there’s much more she can tell us.”
“Probably not, but we have to be sure,” Mr. Waverly said. “Mr. Bowen, will you take care of relieving the young lady of her bonds?”
“Sure thing.” Lucius headed off down the hall.
“And we’ve got to see about getting paid,” Wye said. “You haven’t seen the Jensens out there, have you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Waverly said.
“Come to think of it, this was Martin’s house,” Wye mused. “Maybe since we’re occupying it, they went next-door.”
“That’s possible,” Napoleon nodded.
“We’ll go check.” Wye headed for the door, Ecks trailing after him.
“We’ll all check,” Mr. Waverly said as Lucius came back holding Marietta by her upper arm.
“You had a peaceful night’s rest, I trust,” Napoleon said to her.
“It could have been a lot more peaceful if I hadn’t been on that chair,” Marietta retorted.
“Well,” Napoleon said, “you know why we did it.”
“Yes,” Marietta said in resignation, “and I probably deserved it.”
“Just be grateful you didn’t get worse,” Wye said. “You could have, you know.”
She nodded. “You could have shot me or Mr. Ecks could have stabbed me.”
“Not without provocation, you understand,” Wye said.
“Hey,” Lucius interrupted, peering into the kitchen and seeing the dishes strung everywhere, “you got any apples?”
“Don’t tell me you ran out,” Napoleon quipped.
“Nah, but if you got any, I want to make sure they don’t go to waste,” Lucius retorted.
Ecks gave him a weird look. “We’ll get all the food out of here,” he said.
“And next-door as well, if there is any left,” Illya added.
Napoleon went over to Ecks while Mr. Waverly began to question Marietta. “Mr. Bowen has a thing for apples,” he said low. “We rarely see him without one.”
Ecks smirked a bit. “Well, everyone needs a hobby.” He paused. “Thank you for not revealing what Wye and I are really doing. We weren’t sure what else to do with our lives.”
“I think we can cut you some slack on that illegal private-eye business,” Napoleon said. “Apparently Illya thinks so too. And I’m sure Mr. Waverly can read between the lines. As long as you don’t go back to the spy business, it should be alright.”
Ecks nodded. “I don’t think any spy organization would take us anyway, not after we betrayed the place we were already working for.”
“Probably not,” Napoleon agreed.
“But thank you anyway,” Ecks said, and Wye, who was coming over now, nodded in agreement.
“Just don’t make us regret it,” Illya grunted.
“We won’t,” Wye promised.
Mr. Waverly looked up from his conversation with Marietta. “We’re going to go look for Mr. Pea’s files now, as well as to find the Jensens.”
“Good,” said Napoleon.
“Hopefully we’ll find them somewhere in the office,” Mr. Waverly said. “We’ll have to retrieve your communication devices as well, if he didn’t destroy them.”
“He’d probably hang on to them to see how they work,” Wye said.
“Yes; that’s what I assumed,” Mr. Waverly said.
They stepped outside, passing the sea of colorful paper flamingos that decorated the front yard.
“I should take a picture of this,” Napoleon remarked. “A memento of The Peaceful Meadows Affair.”
“We’ll do it on the way back,” Illya said. “Not that you will need such a memento to remember this case.”
“True, but I’d like it for my scrapbook anyway,” Napoleon shrugged.
“You are sentimental,” Illya grunted. “Why not take the entire flock?”
“Oh, but they look so nice here,” Napoleon said. “Defying the rules for all to see.”
Illya just rolled his eyes, but secretly he was amused. Really, he had probably crafted more of the things than any of the others. After this case, it felt good to defy rules that were ridiculous.
“And how about Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye?” Napoleon remarked, looking to where they had found Jennifer next-door and were apparently discussing prices with her. “I noticed you went along with their cover story.”
“Not that Mr. Waverly was fooled,” Illya said. “But there are so many worse things to worry about than those two practicing private investigating without a license. We should still keep an eye on them, but perhaps it isn’t necessary to do so all the time.”
“I agree,” said Napoleon.
“And I am fairly certain our paths are going to cross again, even if not on purpose,” Illya added.
“After all the times we’ve met so far, I imagine that’s a fair assumption,” Napoleon said.
“Mr. Solo! Mr. Kuryakin!”
They both looked up with a start at Mr. Waverly’s sudden cry. He was talking to another agent who had arrived, a stack of folders clutched in his hand.
“You found them?” Napoleon exclaimed, hurrying over to look.
Illya was right with him. “Where?”
“In the second car Mr. Pea was keeping locked in his garage,” Mr. Waverly explained. “It was in a secret compartment behind the front seat. There is a mention of Ms. Cue in here. It gives her last known address and mentions Mr. Pea contacted her after the fall of their organization.”
Marietta, still on the street and being restrained by Lucius, stared with wondering delight. “Then there really is still hope!” she breathed. “Where is she?”
Mr. Waverly rechecked the information. “It says here that she left Paris after the organization collapsed and moved to Los Angeles,” he announced. Looking up, he said, “Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin?”
“We’ll take the case, Sir,” Napoleon said. “Effective immediately?”
“Oh, I suppose you could have a bit of a break before you prepare to head down to Los Angeles,” Mr. Waverly said. “If you agree to make the 8 o’clock flight.”
“That’s 8 P.M.?” Napoleon said, wanting to make sure he understood.
“Naturally,” Mr. Waverly replied. “Unless you think you could make the one at 8 A.M.”
“I think we’ll pass on that,” Napoleon said quickly.
“I thought you might.” Mr. Waverly looked over as Ecks and Wye came down from the porch and over to the group on the sidewalk. “I also thought perhaps you two gentlemen would like to go to Los Angeles with them to retrieve Ms. Cue. She liked you both; you might have a better chance of getting through to her than Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin here.”
Ecks and Wye exchanged an amazed look. “Would we be gettin’ paid for that service, if we agreed?” Wye asked.
“We would come to some type of arrangement,” Mr. Waverly nodded. “We generally try to compensate those who assist our agents.”
“We’ll do it,” Ecks blurted, and Wye was in full agreement.
“Then our paths will cross again much sooner than we even expected,” said Napoleon.
“Typical,” said Illya.
“Just one thing, though,” Napoleon said. “No more throwing expensive equipment into garbage cans, alright?”
Ecks smirked at him. “Then no more planting any expensive equipment to spy on us.”
Napoleon and Illya pretended to exchange a look. “It’s a deal,” Illya said.
“What’s this about expensive equipment being thrown in garbage cans?” Mr. Waverly frowned.
“Oh, don’t worry, Sir. We got it out,” Napoleon hastened to say.
“And it still works,” Illya added.
“I would hope so!” Mr. Waverly grumped. “We can’t afford any other expenses on our budget, particularly with your penchant for ruining perfectly good suits on assignments, Mr. Solo.”
Illya had to smirk in amusement. Both Ecks and Wye were staring at Napoleon in disbelief.
“Just how many suits do you ruin on a typical assignment?” Wye asked.
Napoleon cleared his throat in discomfort. “Ahem . . . I’d rather not talk about it.”
“So would I,” Mr. Waverly grunted. “Let’s discuss your new assignment instead.”
They headed up the street, looking to the houses as people began to emerge, well-rested and happy. The dark shadow of Peaceful Meadows had passed. If it would continue to exist once the investigation was over, it would be as a different type of gated community, one with rules put together and agreed on by all of the people. And if an infraction were broken, the people would work together to help the offender get their house back in order.
Meanwhile, the U.N.C.L.E. agents and their former enemies were pondering on what would await them in Los Angeles. The Fifty Millionth Frenchman Affair would prove to be a most unexpected and twisted case.
But then again, most of their cases ended up that same way.
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Date: 2015-07-19 02:50 am (UTC)Hope you can join in some of the challenges here on Section VII?
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Date: 2015-07-19 02:55 am (UTC)I'm planning on seeing if I can join the First Meetings challenge, but that's dependent on if I think I can get an idea different enough from everyone else's. ;)
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Date: 2015-07-19 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-19 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-19 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-19 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-19 03:24 am (UTC)