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Summary
“Really,” said a fussy voice behind John. “This is highly irregular.”
John turned, a faint spark of surprise actually filtering through his fatigue. Filthy and thin as his mortal shell was now, he should still be invisible to humans if he wanted to be - and the shorter, stocky middle-aged human with as fussy a face as his voice looked and felt human. He was impeccably if unassumingly dressed, in a three piece dove gray suit and a pale blue tie, knotted under a shirt collar pressed to razor edges. Wire-rimmed spectacles perched high over the bridge of his nose, behind which sharp, pale blue eyes regarded John with disapproval. Had John run into him on a street, he would’ve walked by without a second glance.