"Oh! Scooby!” Velma protested as the Great Dane pulled her suddenly forward, eagerly greeting the white Terrier ahead of them. She fumbled for a few steps before she finally regained her balance, still tugging futilely at the leash.  

Well, this was another fine mess he'd gotten himself into.

"Get back! Ye filthy beast!" Gobber clanged his homemade hammer prosthetic against the shield he held in his remaining hand, and the dragon before him winced angrily. It roared, and he roared right back, baring both bone and metal teeth. He could feel his confidence draining though, as the monstrous nightmare steadily cornered him into the base of a cliff. Well, this might be it. A death he'd expected, certainly, but not so soon. Still, he'd give this dragon the fight of his life before he fell.

One mistimed swing found his warhammer shattering the largest tusk in the nightmare's maw, and angering it even further.

@musefinch​ said: “Callie! Thanks so much for meeting me, I really needed to get off base.” Susan crouched, breathing a sigh of relief. “What have you been up to this week?”

“It was nothing, Susan.” Callie waved a hand with a small smile, looking over at the beautiful river view, “I’m currently working on another news story so I might be busy for the next few days. I just need to visit places like this to clear my head.” She finally looked up at her, “How’s life treating you, by the way?”

Susan nodded knowingly. “It’s a good practice to clear your head, I’m glad we could help each other with that,” she added with a smile.

“Oh, same-old-same-old,” Susan chuckled. It felt odd to say, knowing how bizarre her normal was to most of the world. “A few investigations here and there, keeping the base running, you know. I’m hoping I can get a day off next week though, my parents need some help moving.”

Thrift shops! No wonder. She cursed herself silently for not thinking to look there. Or at least, to look there for this particular item. But then the stranger offered it up, and, well, that was a far better outcome than she had expected for this interaction.

“Really?” She probed, taken aback, albeit pleasantly. She’d begun fumbling for... anything, pen, paper, business card-- before she even began her next sentence. 

“I’m Velma, by the way,” she finally thought to say as she produced a scrap of paper and messily scrawled her number on it. “Whenever you’re done with it, no rush, just give me a call.” 

She caught herself smiling ear to ear by the burning of her cheeks, and felt a twinge of embarrassed self-awareness. It was just a book, no need to get this worked up...

She gulped. ‘Smelling Fear’, for all intents and purposes, was entirely possible. Subtle hormonal changes, an increase in adrenaline, even the presence of sweat were all olfactory signals that fight and flight were being considered. Whether Tintin was right in this case, she wasn’t sure. But she was going to trust him on this one.