This is purely to remind Mutt that posting SOMETHING is more important than being perfect.

"OMG," said Weft, "I am so hot today." He took off his conservatively cut bubblegum pink sweater and twirled it teasingly.

"Yes, yes you are," leered Müttly Föe, applauding.

"Shut up. This is supposed to be a stakeout," Weft told him.

"I came out centuries ago. Are you going to stake me?" asked Müttly Föe honestly and euphemistically.

"Keep your brain on duty," snapped the monk.

"That is hard when the blood is rushing elsewhere," the half-vampire said. "Aww, no," he added, disappointedly watching Weft wriggle into a black turtleneck.

Some day he would ask about those scars across the assassin's abs. He had a feeling there was a dramatic and potentially hawt story behind them. There certainly was for all of Müttly Föe's scars, which he did not need to keep because he had a healing factor and cellular regeneration, but he kept them to remind him and also for the coolness factor.

"Is there any sign of movement?"

"Oh right, the target." Müttly Föe squinted across the dock. The windows of the houseboat were darkened and the curtains were drawn. The curtains were yellow with a pattern that looked sort of like abstract feathers or ribbons. "No there is no sign of movement. You realise I could just stop time and use the Force and then..."

"Shut up. My assignment, my rules." Weft's hand found the back of Müttly Föe's neck. In an instant he dug a thumbnail into a pressure point to remind the vampire who was boss.

"I can tell it is going to be hard work getting into your pants," Müttly Föe said appreciatively.

"You're a size 10. You wouldn't fit."