A Stranger Named Strange | Jackson & Jameson
He’d been alone for a very long time now. He’d outlived everyone he knew and had, long ago, accepted the fact that he was simply never going to die. What he didn’t know for sure was why. Oh, he had his suspicions. He’d delved into things, he knew now, that he never should have meddled with. The jury was still out though on whether this immortality had been meant as a reward or a punishment. To him, it had mostly been a torture, especially knowing there was nothing he could do about it. He’d tried everything, once he’d been left alone, yet he was still kicking and breathing.
Still, it wasn’t without its perks. He’d lived long enough to see some amazing things. The world may have lost its use for magic…again, but the marvels it had created in its stead simply amazed him. Flying ships, artificial beings; they were all so very wonderful. There was the occasional snag like legions of automatons trying to take over Britain, but hadn’t magic had its drawbacks too? Indeed it had and he’d seen the worst of them first hand.
As he sat and ruminated, accompanied by healthy amounts of alcohol, he began to realize that he wasn’t entirely alone. Two men had come in together, though they seemed an unlikely pair, and sat a few stools down from him. At first, he’d thought nothing of it, but he noticed now that they were talking in hushed tones, hardly touching their drinks, and sneaking glances at him now and then. He pursed his lips and sighed, determined to ignore whoever they were and whatever they wanted. When it became obvious that this strategy was never going to work, he simply spun around in his seat and said, “Jonathan Strange, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”
