Who: Bobby Singer & Harry Dresden Where: Bobby's Fortress of Awesome When: Now-ish What: Digging through storage Warnings: Possible language and mis-use of muggle artifacts, not likely to be much else.
Bobby's yard looked almost the same here as it had back home, a machine shop in the back, stacks of junkers in various stages of rusting out scattered throughout. In an empty, dusty patch off the back porch there was a rough ring of hubcaps, most of them plain, but a couple, the ones that were portkeys out, were painted, there was a union jack for the London portkey, an Apple Records logo for New York, a cartoon aligator with a collar for Louisana and randomly, a bamboo torii for an empty meadow in the Japanese countryside.
The man himself was sitting in a well-worn wooden porch chair on the back porch. He wasn't as imposing a figure as people made him out to be, not quite six foot tall, even in his workboots. At that particular moment he was just watching the silver bulldog, only just starting to grow into her feet, chasing lightning bugs in the darkening evening. As promised, there was a cold beer sitting on the porch railing for his guest.