CHAPTER VI
We stood at the bar of a dingy little pub on the outskirts of the dingy little district of Seven Dials. Geoff, who was learning to orient himself by sounds, heard the clunk of his mug on the bar, and unerringly put his fingers around it. "Pretty good, eh?" he asked me, sipping the half-and-half.
"You'll be a wizard at it in a few months."
"I meant the ruddy ale, idiot. I'm not bragging about my accomplishments yet. Seen any of our chums lately?" he asked.
"Oh, dozens. Run into 'em everywhere." It was a kind of simple code; I was telling him that the pub was full of the aliens.
"Fine. Any of 'em give you any news? Anything startling been happening?"
"Not much. Same old stuff."
Same old stuff!
Same old fiends from Abaddon! Same old hosts of Hell! Same old ogres and ghouls, harpies and bugaboos, hobgoblins and hellhags!