Topher Lydon

Kyle just needs to learn something, don't worry, he will Types away happilly

Twenty-five The air in the Tim Hortons back lot was thick with the faint, comforting scent of stale coffee grounds and deep fryer grease. It was late afternoon, and the setting sun cast long, lonely shadows across the cracked asphalt. This was where they always met: a familiar, neutral space between Brian’s chaotic, itinerant life and Kyle’s predictable, clock-punching world. Kyle stood near the dumpster enclosure, picking nervously at the hem of his Tim Hortons uniform. He was pale, h

Gotta... build tension Make you want it more.

he literally just got off a plane from the tropics, he knows, believe me, how under-dressed he is for the occasion. Stupid CSIS and it's stupid problems that he now has to sort out. Stupid Templeman and using Ezra as an I OWE U marker. And this religious right thing, screw that, where's my flame thrower. Time to go to Church.

El Coyote in the snow

He is a wonderfully complex, yet very simple character. Andrew nails it well. A King on a white horse, come to war, while the men on the ground who love him wade through mud, blood, and muck to win in his name.

Since you have all been so good, here's a sneak peak: Enrico Alvarez was situated near a portable space heater, but the device was waging a losing battle against the frozen New York air. He was a study in theatrical displacement: draped in a heavy, cashmere travel blanket, he occupied a polished mahogany chair commandeered from the hangar office, completely unsuited for the industrial environment. Despite the layers, his sharp Italian suit, expensive Spanish leather boots, and the ridiculous straw Panama hat perched jauntily on his dark hair confirmed his non-negotiable standards of elegance. He looked profoundly annoyed. "It is utterly barbaric," Enrico murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He reached for a snifter containing a deep amber liquid—aged tequila, warmed gently by the heater's minimal output. He took a slow, appreciative sip. "Maldita nieve." (Damn snow.)

The question becomes, who do you guys most identify with? (Bet's there are a lot of Uncle Peter's out there)

Will is an ideal, something to strive towards. Andrew is definitely more the man I am now when I am pissed (Angry). But to be honest, I'm more the Jared type these days. Bumbling along, just trying to do the right thing for my friends, and useless at love

If I can be honest, it did me as well when I wrote it. I was expecting to use this book to set up a future run at it. Not to have him face to face with it in this one. But it just made sense, Will could either lay down and take it, or get back up and fight.

Good morning all, hope you are enjoying the ride

Chapter Twenty-three WORLD END: T-minus 154 days, 14 hours, and 30 minutes 7 Rideau Gate, Ottawa, Ontario The X5 rolled to a silent halt outside the massive, custom-built wooden gate of Seven Rideau Gate. The transition from the harsh, cold streets of downtown Ottawa to the hushed, manicured quiet of the official guesthouse was immediate and profound. Here, security was seamless, invisible, and absolute. Corporal Jenkins, the PPT officer, was out of the vehicle inst

Kenny's Captain Boy-Scout, he's probably been prepared for this since the first time "Boyfriend" was uttered aloud.

Well... Steve *is* clean

one more to go of this little tale. Then I have something new I am working on. More Chaos in the Ville, this time it's going to be Kyle Harding's story.

I think it is more the sex aspect. Maybe I got a bit swept up in it. I was more focused on the sensuality of it... and maybe Kenny was more looking for an excuse to be... thorough

Sally Jensen : I can't help wondering where all my shower gel went. Jenny Lynn smoking Clovis's cigar : Steve's never smelled better. Sally: Oh no, not in my shower. Jenny lynn : Better than all over the rug. Sally : You probably have a point there... when do you think I'll be able to go home? Jenny Lynn checking watch : give them another hour. I don't see Steve going that long, but your Kenny seems... thorough Sally blushes : oh I am so not ready for my baby boy to grow up. Jenny Lynn: I am, can't wait till that lazy lump is all moved out and I can turn his room into a crafts space... I have even got the colours all picked out. Sally : Oh those are really nice... I wonder what I can do with Kenny's room... maybe a home office?

Also, Jared is the only one who knows what really happened with the Kompromat Edward Rawlins.

What do you think the Treasure is?

Letting this one out a bit early, so I can get on with other work.

They quietly tip-toed into the Jensen house. Kenny’s mom was out with Mrs. Hickey, the two of them developing a fast friendship built around smoking Clovis’s cigars and making comments about the neighbours that dared judge them, all the while drinking Pinot Noir and laughing. This worked for Kenny. It meant he had the house to himself, and after the frought anxiety of the day, he was determined, and on a mission. He latched every door, put the chain across, and tucked chairs under the

Seemingly a minor chapter. But rather significant to the plot going forward. Jared is quite pivotal in these books, especially the latter half of the second book. Where we actually get into why he and Will are friends from his perspective. And why he and Andrew are not as close.

He still doesn't see himself as a target. His mind is focused on Will and the boys. That arrogant protectiveness is going to get him killed one day. Not today... killed tomorrow... Today he's strapped to a gurney at the mercy of... Sorry having fun writing. No spoilers.

Poor old Greenie, he always catches them