"I've got to say, the paperwork isn't so bad once you get used to it." Whim was saying, as the red Volkswagon bug clattered along the roads of the UK, somewhere just south of York, to judge from the signs whizzing by at entirely too unhealthy a speed. "I mean, dry as dust, most of it, but every so often you get a report about an infestation of transdimensional chickens at a farm in the Midlands, and then it's all made worth while."
It was a very good thing that Erin was a small person, because Whim's was not a large car. It was further cramped by the fact that Whim was bringing several boxes, a change of clothing, and a terrarium for DC (presently snoozing and completely oblivious to the terrifying speeds at which Whim drove). Erin's wings would just have to cope.
The occasion, it was obvious, was New Year's Eve. It had been Whim's idea originally, to drive up and visit Cuchulainn for the New Year's, driving up on the 31st, sleeping it off on the 1st, and then driving back to London on the 2nd. Cuchulainn had been glad to accept them and put them up in a guest room, which left only the question of transportation. Whim had offered to drive, and Erin, in a fit of insanity, had accepted. Seventeen had taken one look at Whim's car and opted to take the train instead, for reasons of safety and peace of mind.
"I think there might be an assistant Epopt position opening up in the next couple of years, we've had some growth." Whim continued. An Epopt, Erin knew from prior conversations, was the GotV official in charge of maintaining minor cults into which curious mortals were shunted off to. "I wonder if I've got a chance..."