The little shadow that runs through the grass

magicandsteel:

Tim takes the knife, nodding his thanks, and slices the pizza expertly. He slides the pizza onto a serving plate and gestures for Messy to follow him into the dining room. He sets it down in the centre of his table, pulls out a chair for Messy. “When I’m not a psychic?” He quirks a grin at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “When I’m not working or reading I’m generally taking care of an unexpected houseguest- there are one or two people who drop in at all hours when they get bored. Or, I play chess.”

“Like who?” Messy’s eyes are alight with interest; she rests both arms on the table, leaning forward.