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Low Key was enjoying the pleasant afternoon, safely ensconced underneath a palm tree. The lotion he'd gotten from Dr. House was helping immensely with his sunburn.

The bookcase had seen fit to give him a book on Viking history, so he was reading and occasionally laughing or making snarky comments to himself.

All in all, he wouldn't say no to some company.

Sep. 1st, 2006

Continued from here


He groaned softly, his hands wandering down to gently squeeze her arse. If this was the sort of thing to happen to an ex-god after appearing on strange islands, he highly approved.

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Spoilers AhoyCollapse )

Low Key was warm, unaccountably warm. It must be Hell, he thought. Where else do con men go when their plans go terribly terribly wrong? He opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the sun. Not Hell, then. But where?

He started to sit up but the pain in his chest strongly discouraged the idea. "That bitch," he said, half in anger, half in admiration. In all of his plans and contingencies, he'd never accounted for Shadow's wife having the metaphorical balls to not stay dead.

He tried sitting up again, and managed it this time. He looked down at his chest to inspect the damage and was surprised to see that though his shirt was ruined, there was no wound. Only a ragged scar remained of his death wound.

"Well, what do you know?" He whistled softly. "A whole new world for me."

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Low Key Lyesmith

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