Joyeux Noel, Dr Roux.
Saw this little curio in a Vegas Pawn Shop. I thought you might get a kick out of it. It's an antique Doctor's kit. Not sure how much of it is still functional, but it sure makes a great display piece.
Stone Harbor wasn't a place that Flag liked to visit often. While the people that ran the place were his associates, there were just too many of them. People were uncomfortable. The resources that they provided, however, were useful and something that he needed now.
Courtesy dictated that they check in at the theater upon arrival and this was where he found himself now. Much to his surprise, it was empty save for a couple of underlings that generally haunted the place.
They were huddled around an array of boxes and giggling wildly. Before he knew it, he was towering over them, spying at their antics with an inadvertent curiosity.
"We're sending a Christmas package to ACME."
One of his eyebrows shot up. "Why?"
"Because they keep us employed."
The minion that had not spoke previously jabbed the other with her elbow. "No moron. We keep them employed. They keep us entertained."
"Oh. Right." The first girl giggled. "Whatever. This is for fun. You want to add something?" She smiled up at Flag.
He made a noise at the idea and walked off. Sending a present to their enemies was ridiculous and the fact that they were being non-ironic about it was even more so.
Perhaps this was why the fact that he started pondering on what he would add to the box was so strange. Before he even knew it, he was entertaining the idea of a contribution. What would he give who? The one agent that he respected in previous lives seemed to have answered a second calling instead and was out of the picture.
The only other person that he knew at ACME was the director and the idea of sending him a present was cringeworthy at best...
.. but there was a certain allure to it.
He found himself in the theater's abandoned gift shop. It had been picked over and ransacked many times and he wasn't sure why he was even making an effort to look over the piles left behind.
Flag turned around to head out and passed a rack that held greeting cards and small journals. He backtracked and allowed his eyes to land on a medium sized Moleskine™ notebook, which he pulled off the shelf and flipped through.
The pages and smooth black cover were completely blank. It was unintentionally perfect.
The truth was that he didn't think much of Chase Devereaux. With all of the various adjustments to the timeline that everyone suffered unknowingly, he was the only one that didn't change in the slightest. While everyone else followed their gut instincts and bettered themselves, he remained solid as a rock.
A book full of empty pages reflected that sentiment. Of course there was always the chance that the director would use the book and fill the pages, but that was satisfying in another way. Whatever he did with it, he'd be working with parameters that Flag defined. In a weird sort of way, he would have complete control over a tiny part of the man's life.
He peeled off any labels that would differentiate the journal from its generic counterparts around the world and left the gift shop to give it to the girls. "Make sure this gets to the director."
i'm at a conference and just tweeted "there's an elsevier rep in the room. KILL HIM! KILL HIM! HE DOES THE WORK OF SATAN" and couldn't quite place what i was referencing... then i realized it was glados saying "BIRD! BIRD! KILL IT! IT'S EVIL"))