Dirk Gently Jacket Novels & Stories

She eyed me suspiciously but didn't say anything as she stuffed the supplies into her bag. Donned in tan leather pants paired with a linen tunic featuring black buttons, she secured a familiar dagger to a harness against her ribs. Retrieving her jacket from the bed, she pulled it over her head. The jacket, embellished with simple brass buckles and elbow pads, had been a lavish purchase for her sixteenth birthday the previous year. The intent was to possess a garment to conceal her daggers when venturing into town, like today.

They eye the warriors wearily before rising, shrugging into coats. I glance at one of them in particular as he slides his muscled arms into an old, brown leather jacket, his head bowed, his face just out of sight. Black gloves catch my attention. Ghost issued gloves. I’d recognize them anywhere. It’s not uncommon, I guess. The Ghosts are everywhere, but they don't just… wear their gloves in public. He has dark, chestnut brown hair. It curls softly, the ends shining a golden blond like it’s highlighted from the sun… or the unforgiving fluorescent lighting.

A familiar voice said behind me, confirming that I was really alive or we were both dead. I turned quickly to see Gerald crouched by a fire, eyes unreadable. "I had to make it look real," he said. "If Damon suspected anything, you'd be dead." I nodded and rose. Something fell off me, and I realized it was a jacket. Gerald's jacket, to be specific. His jacket still smelled like pine and leather and something I couldn't name; it was a feeling of safety, and I didn't know how long it could last. I picked it up and wore it over my shoulders, walking towards him.

Jake. Punctual this time, which was a small miracle in itself. He looked well, better geared, for starters. His jacket was sleek black, fitted, and clearly new. Not in a flashy way, but in the “I-don’t-shop-sales-rack” kind of way. His boots actually matched and his helmet didn’t look like it had survived three wars. Still, he carried himself like a man preparing to face his doom. “Hey, disaster” I called out with a grin, sliding my goggles up.

Cyrus growled at her compliment. My graduation gift to myself was my Dune and a black Overland Jacket to match. The bomber jacket, made of soft lambskin, was long enough to fit my torso. I could easily disappear while riding in the night. “Thanks, Jane.” She ignored me, lost in the abyss of men’s fashion. I tapped the desk, happy to turn over my pressing emergency to another.

I’d completely forgotten about it in my rush to avoid him this morning. “Do you have makeup in your bag?” he asked. I shook my head. I’d packed light, not expecting to stay long enough to need a full beauty routine. Knox’s jaw tightened. He pulled off his leather jacket, revealing a black t-shirt that clung to every muscle I’d just been pressed against. He draped the jacket over my shoulders. “Keep the collar up.” The jacket was warm from his body heat and smelled like him. Leather and aftershave and something darker, and more dangerous.

, DL command show him closely the image of the convenience market that he told. Jack look at it, memorize the look of it and the way to go there. Jack suddenly thought of something. "DL command about the one I have let you search for. Did you already found something?", Jack was talking about the other survivor if there are. "I'm still trying to figure it out Jack. Still searching for it.", DL command quick respond. Jack change his clothes for a better protection of himself. A lighter one. A pair of jeans. A plain black shirt. And a black bomber jacket. And the riffle that he hides underneat his bed.

Scott asked him. Ryker was reaching into the pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing, Jo hadn’t even noticed it before. She was so used to seeing him in that dumb furry coat he wore all over Rusia, now that he didn’t need it anymore, she hadn’t realized he ws dressed a lot like the rest of them. It was a syringe. Ryker pulled a syringe out of his inner jacket pocket and used his injured arm to pull up the sleeve on his other arm, wincing at the pain it obviously caused to use his bleeding arm to do anything at all.

"That must be hard for you to admit." "It is." She pushed to her feet. Given this morning's errand, boots, jeans and a plain T-shirt seemed the smartest outfit. With the cool morning breeze still coming in off the ocean, her leather jacket was comfortable, which meant she could wear an underarm holster. Orion circled the coffee table to stand in front of her. He curled one finger, then thumped her chest. Or what should have been her chest. The Kevlar vest was rather obvious.

It had edges. I swallowed hard, horror chasing the words out of my mouth too late. “I…I don’t mean to blackmail you,” I added quickly, the apology tumbling over itself. “I just really need your help. Just the jacket. Nothing else. I’ll give it back. I’ll—” His head turned slowly over his shoulder, that predatory cant an apex animal gives just before it decides whether to run or bite. The light caught in his eyes and for a breath they weren’t icy blue at all, they flared, a rim of deep, banked red like heat under iron.