oooooo can we have the bomb story? did mo valiantly rescue your plants? did you bravely save his antiques?
Okay, so, Mo and I haven't spoken in about eighty years over the word "fraternising". World War Two's happening, I'm running around London trying to keep morale up, helping out where I can. I get wind that a certain someone's showing his face about town for the first time in eighty years, and I figure I'd better at least check if there's a wile I need to thwart.
Well, turns out Secret Agent 666 is working with British Intelligence trying to usher nazis Downstairs as quickly as possible - can't say I disapprove - except it also turns out that they're *not* British Intelligence and the nazis have the jump on him, and now he's in some graveyard with a gun pointed at him.
One of them says something about making him dig his own grave. Mo complains about his outfit and discorporation paperwork. They all think he's quite insane. I'm forgetting to be annoyed with him, beloved idiot.
I pop out to say hi, it's just like old times, everything's water under the bridge. I not so subtly hint that a stray bomb could very easily end solve this situation, he says a stray bomb could very easily end *us*, I say yes, it would take a real miracle for us to survive it. Wink.
He trusts me enough to let the bomb drop on us. They die. We don't. I even rescue his bag of occult trinkets, because I missed the silly bugger.
Still took him another twenty years to trust me with the lantern of Hellfire. But I suppose, for Mo, that's moving quite fast, so.
