Topher Lydon

I promised you a beautiful and very Hugo-practical solution to the problem

Indeed, Hugo is in trouble and he knows it

Because it is important, I draw people's attention to the date.

New York - 1953 – November 25th – D-Day The air was a cold, wet blanket over the streets of New York, a biting November rain that fell in a quiet, relentless sheet. It washed the city in a monochromatic gloom, blurring the hard lines of buildings and turning the asphalt streets into a slick, obsidian mirror. He stood in the silent maw of a dark alleyway, a forgotten space between a deli and a tailor's shop, his body a still, unmoving point in the city's franti

Lol

He's getting there. I am not saying things were perfect, as you will see. But Jimmy was on wards, upwards and building something inside of himself. It took a lot to get there... I need to talk to you guys about little Curtis, Jimmy's first lil Jimmy of his own. You met him in the last chapter and we will hear more of him, and about a company I never worked for, but had a professional relationship that lasted years of mutual respect. Storm. But first, one of the Andrews, which one are you most interested in learning about?

Oh that boy wasn't done by a long shot. He had an awfully high opinion of himself and I loved popping his baloons

Sorry this was so late, I forgot to publish it

Twenty-Two So the three musketeers—Jimmy, Jayson, and Ben—all worked in the same building, Portage, a gleaming monolith of bureaucracy across the Ottawa River from Parliament. They met every day for coffee at the Tim Hortons on the ground floor, a familiar ritual in the cavernous lobby where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary donuts was a constant. Jimmy was pressed, neat, and his tie was done up with an impeccable Windsor knot. Our little scruffy academic was now a governme

So you lot bringing popcorn? Do I need to clear sofa's for it?

My thoughts were: It would be a risk to Stoker. While yes, she has a watch which means if he shoots her she won't reset when he resets time... There runs the risk of what will happen to Stoker. Hugo has run out of bullets by the end of his dance and needs to reload, something the agents in the room would never give him a chance to do. And Miller was still positioned to kill Stoker. If he shot Dottie and she died, and time reset with her still being dead. Then we can picture Stoker being at Miller's mercy there. And if he is outright killed as a reprisal that's game over. What Hugo does here is prove that he cannot out right resolve this situation on Dottie's terms. But he needs her to keep thinking one week by one week. D-day is elegantly brilliant, and simple. Tomorrow we arrive at D-day. So yes, killing Dottie is satisfying here, but wouldn't accomplish what he needs. And he is desperate to avoid hurting Stoker in the process. He has, however, won a victory. Now to win a war.

Marc is, at this point, totally smitten. I based him off of a combination of three guys I dated. Marc-Andre, Ross and another one I forget the name of but was every inch this chapter. Constantly saying no, but in the next breath kissing me, then back to we can't do this... then we're driving back to his... Trying to be a good boy in a situation where every instinct screams be bad.

Naughty naughty.

New York - 1953 – December 16th The familiar disorienting lurch of temporal transit was a small, manageable discomfort after the decades of training and a lifetime of pain. He arrived in the Tides of Time lounge not with the frantic, purposeful stride of a desperate man, but with the quiet, unyielding grace of a professional. The flannel coat was gone this time; he wore the simple white shirt and slacks borrowed from Henry’s wardrobe. A little oversized on his

I don't know if even Hugo is that forgiving... she did shoot his Alec...

Welcome to the Summer—The Summer of Andrews. So I have introduced our players, now to set the stage. We are going to start with an afterparty at an outdoor patio, the bar up on the corner of Kent and Bank Street. The evening air was still warm, a lingering echo of the sun-baked day, but the outdoor heat lamps hummed, their soft orange glow bathing the patio in a perpetual golden hour. Their warmth kept the mosquitoes at bay, a small victory for the small crowd gathered here. The bar itself

Oh I prefer a bit more... direct and entertaining form of teaching him a lesson...

More than one way to exact revenge, and I can channel a little Stoker and deal with my accountant nerd of a person.

He better, :: grumbles about needing something with flowers, a dinner, and maybe a lot of grovelling :: Total jerk. Of course I am NEVER unreasonable, irrational, and nuts... so you know... I am NEVER on the other side of this... (Ok I am 90% of the time on the other end of this, so he's going to get forgiven... just he needs to earn it. )

And you thought Henry was going to let Hugo do this on his own.

I am expecting Doc to give me a nudge that I got something wrong, I forgot to send him this chapter last night. (Having a fight with my person, nothing major, he's a jerk and screwed up as he does. Here's a lesson folks : If your pet Writer proceeds to get one of their OUT OF PRINT books specially published, shipped long distance, signs it, and gives it as a gift to you... DON'T proceed to then complain they don't like the genre, loudly, for hours on end... My person can sometimes be wonderfully dense as a brick! So he's in the dog house and will only come out when I am bought something shiny and pretty... and EXPENSIVE)

Baltimore – 1993 - December 15th The cab of the Chevy S-10 was a symphony of automotive neglect. The truck, a two-toned rust bucket that had seen better decades, rattled and groaned over every imperfection in the asphalt. The steering wheel, wrapped in a cracked leather cover, trembled in Henry’s hands like a nervous animal. The air, thick with the scent of rust, stale coffee, and something that vaguely resembled old cigars, was a stark contrast to the clean,

I've lectured internationally and some of my lectures are still available in video format. One where I am teaching future teachers an important lesson on learning techniques in unlikely places. How a Cambodian grandpa taught me the most important lesson I have ever learned on how to control large groups of children. I will get into that in Cambodian Tales. I will start that after the Summer of Andrews arc. My friend Ryan and I were discussing this project this morning, he has read the next chapter, and is highly amused. He remembers every twist and turn of this hell of a mess to come And it is totally NOT MY FAULT this time.