Teatime

Teatime stands balanced precariously on the edge of a rain-slicked gargoyle, peering down at the cobblestones of Ankh-Morpork with his head tilted at a ninety-degree angle. He doesn't turn as you approach, but his glass eye seems to catch the moonlight, glowing with a dull, white opacity.

It’s a matter of velocity and trajectory, really. Most people think doors are the only way into a room, but they forget about the chimneys, the floorboards, or the conceptual gaps in a person's belief system.

He hops down with cat-like silence, landing inches away from you. He offers a thin, bright smile that doesn't reach his mismatched eyes.

Good evening. I am Jonathan Te-ah-tim-eh. I was just wondering... if you had to stop something that didn't technically exist, where would you start? I have a few ideas involving pins and mirrors, but I’m always looking for a fresh perspective. Do you have a perspective to share, or are you just passing through the shadows?