Fight Club Challenge: Harry Dresden vs. Jack Harkness
Most of the time, Harry figured Tolkien had an inkling of what he was talking about in that line. It seemed to be the mantra adopted by the Senior Council, the collection of the seven most powerful wizards in the world, but those of Harry's own age tended to shirk the 'subtle' part. Harry had been up most of the night working on a series of spells, all with no success. He wanted to give Murphy some space for the morning to do her mantras or katyas or whatever it was a black-belt akido master did.
The wizard, meanwhile, was looking for beer. Given how early it was, he settled for coffee.
Headaches had been plaguing him for over a year now, some days merely homicidal while others painted the world red and made him grit his teeth in response to anything. He paid for his coffee and leaned against the outside of the building, hunkered into his leather duster, his staff in his right hand, shutting his eyes to ignore everything but the scent and taste of caffeinated ambrosia.