ROUX ON THE ROAD!

               ‘What are you doing?’

     ‘Flirting.’ That’s gonna come off a little strong, isn’t it, Roux, you fuckin idiot. ‘Was it that bad? Yikes, huh.’

     ‘You have ten minutes to tell me what paper you work for and to stop standing around outside my building before I call the police, Mr – ?’

     ‘Roux. Mr Roux.’ Roux has never once in his life introduced himself as Mr Roux, but here he is now, nodding like that’s the name on his records. First name Mr, surname Roux, that’s him, apparently. ‘Also, I don’t work for a paper. I’m --- ’ People around here don’t react well to the I’m dimension-hopping thing, and obviously they haven’t heard of him, so. ‘My name’s Roux,’ you’re Mr Roux now, fucko, ‘and I’m doing a documentary. Ma’am --- ?’

Finally turning to him, they check their face for sweat or errant tears with the back of one hand, ‘what did you say?’ 

     Roux is sort of wishing he hadn’t said anything, but then he’s always sort of wishing he hadn’t said anything, and if he never said anything then he wouldn’t be, you know, Roux on the Road, which is immaterial when you consider the fact that he could easily be punched so hard by this terrifying Empire State Building of a person that he dies, and sure that’s all in a day’s work for the average documentary presenter, but goodness gracious does the thought make him come out in hives.

1.01, Lizard