To illustrate the vain conceit that the universe must be somehow pre-ordained for us, because we are so well-suited to live in it, he [Douglas Adams] mimed a wonderfully funny imitation of a puddle of water, fitting itself snugly into a depression in the ground, the depression uncannily being exactly the same shape as the puddle.
Answer my question, Dresden,' Nicodemus growled. 'What is that?' 'A precaution against getting stuck in deep snow,' I said. 'He's training to be a Saint Bernard.' 'Excuse me?' Nicodemus said. I mimed covering one of Mouse's ears with my hand and stage-whispered, 'Don't tell him that they don't actually carry kegs of booze on their collars. Break his little heart.
Before Luce could reply, a skinny, dark haired girl appeared in from of her, wagging her long fingers in Luce's face. "Ooooooh," the girl taunted in a ghost-story-telling voice, dancing around Luce in a circle. "The reds are watching youuuu." "Get out of here, Arriane, before I have you lobotimized," the attendant said, though it was clear from her first brief but genuine smile that she had some coarse affection for that crazy girl. It was also clear that Arriane did not reciprocate the love. She mimed a jerking-off motion at the attendant, then stared at Luce, daring her to be offended.
On the flat expanse of pancake ice, War stood by the Pale Rider's side. Though their forms did not touch, their shadows intertwined, black on black, in a smoky caress. 'Knew you'd come, ' Death said cheerfully. She smiled, and that slow motion of her lips hinted at many things. 'The White Rider divided, and the world on the brink of destruction. How could I stay away?' 'I could set my watch by you.' 'You don't have a watch.' Her smile broadened into a grin. 'An hourglass, maybe... ' 'Please, not another joke about a scythe... ' She mimed zipping her mouth shut. A pause, as they listened to the sounds of the boy healing and the man summoning doom. 'I like him, ' War said. Even though she hadn't specified whether she meant the boy or the man, Death smiled and nodded. 'Me too.' 'You like everyone.' 'Well, yes.' The two shared a quiet laugh, their voices mingling in perfect harmony. A longer pause, and then War asked, 'What of Famine?' 'What of her? She's not mine. Not yet, anyway. She will be soon enough.' The Red Rider slid him a look. 'That's cold, even for you.' 'Eh, just practical.' A shrug. 'Everyone comes to me eventually. It's the journey that makes it interesting.' 'Such a people person!' He flashed her a grin. 'My best quality.' 'Oh, ' said War, sliding her gloved hand into his pale one, 'I can think of others that are better.
Jackie Morse Kessler