Snippet #2167877

Zaz couldn't help but to overhear that voice thinking aloud. He listened intently, amazed at how brilliant the man was. He had always envied Basil, his sense of adventure called to Zaz's own, repressed as it was. He was a loner, like Zaz, and often spurned because he was different. A crazy, brilliant man and a crazy, neurotic war vet. Like that could ever happen.

As Basil petered off from his verbal thoughts, something hit Watson that he had noticed about the inhabitants. This could be his chance... If Walt Town was in danger, he would have no problem giving that information, and from what Basil was saying the foundations were definitely there. Yes. He would do it. With a small sigh and a poker face set firmly in place (easy to do from years at war), he put his tea back on the saucer and turned to face Basil. "Ehm, there's something else. You sort of touched on it when you were talking about family. How many step-mothers can live in one town, and why are they almost always the cruel sort?" He took the chance to get his first good look at Basil. Unruly black hair tousled down over his ears and forehead, and his brows arched enough to give him a severe look. The way his mouth moved when he talked, fast and precise, was fantastic, and... 'Whoah, Zaz,' he warned himself, 'don't blow your one chance.'