Last time, Harry decided to walk into the home base of a gang with the brilliant plan of hoping they’re not in. Shockingly, this didn’t work out so great. Then he found Mr. Tiger Fridge waiting at his office, OH NOES NOT THE MOBSTER WHO IS SURPRISINGLY PATIENT WITH HARRY’S LIP.

Marcone had eyes the color of old, faded dollar bills. His skin was weatherworn, with an outdoorsman’s deep tan. Creases showed at the corners of his eyes and mouth, as though from smiling, but those smiles were rarely sincere. His suit must have cost him at least a thousand dollars. He sat at ease in my chair, my chair, mind you, and regarded me with professional calm.
From behind him, Mr. Hendricks looked like an all-star collegiate lineman who hadn’t been smart enough to go into the pros. Hendricks’s neck was as big around as my waist, and his hands were big enough to cover my face—and strong enough to crush it. His red hair was buzz cut, and he wore his ill-fitting suit like something that he planned to rip his way out of when he turned into the Hulk. I couldn’t see his gun, but I knew he was carrying one.

More descriptions of guys that manage to not mention anything about cuteness or sensuality. Note how Harry makes size comparisons that involve his waist and Hendrick’s hands, but splits them up so there’s nothing about hands around waists. You know that if this was flipped, it’d be Harry being all “omg she was soooo tiny my big manly hands could fit around her cute little waist.”

And unlike last book (…or every time he’s brought it up this book…), turns out Harry is now not such a fan of the cool gentleman tiger mobster.

“Get out of my office,” I said. I stepped inside and closed the door.
“Now, now, Mr. Dresden,” Marcone said, a father’s reproof in his tone.
“Is that any way to talk to a business partner?”
I scowled. “I’m not your partner. I think you’re scum. The worst criminal this city has. One of these days the cops will nail you, but until then, I don’t have to put up with you here in my own office. Get out.”

Yep, none of that sparkly-eye stuff about how he was really helping by keeping the other criminals under control and how he reduced suffering because he was all about efficiency and even the cops kind of liked him.

This does come out of absolutely nowhere, though, and it’s weird that Harry has overcorrected to the point of screaming this guy is the WORST EVAR.

So my thinking is, Harry mad. It was cool in theory for people to think he was working for a badass mobster, but it turned out that all the normal people thought it was true and shunned him while all the actual criminals were all LOL YEAH RIGHT LOSER and now he’s broke and everyone’s being mean to him :( And meanwhile Marcone just ignores him, like he was all “hey check out what a stern but reasonable father figure I can be” and then he just LEAVES LIKE ALL HARRY’S OTHER FATHER FIGURES DID!

And now he thinks he can just waltz back into Harry’s life with his whole “I’m a responsible adult and I’m disappointed in you” thing well Harry’s not falling for that again!

“The police,” Marcone said, a hint of correction in his voice, “would be best off run by private agencies, rather than public institutions. Better pay, better benefits—”
“Easier to bribe, corrupt, manipulate,” I injected.
Marcone smiled.

Harry is totally falling for that again.

I can only assume the smile is because Marcone knows what he just said is nonsense. It just had to be a sentence that involved him mentioning money and police and then see if Harry will jump at the chance to try to argue with him when any normal person would be like, wait, what?

But Harry’s still in a snit, so he sits down at his desk, makes a show of his mighty rod, pretends to ignore them then seconds later is all “oh wait you’re still here” like god Harry, you have to commit to this and actually act like you don’t notice forcing them to make the next move, and THEN you cut them off with “oh wait you’re still here”, okay?

“I have an offer to make you, Mr. Dresden.”
“No,” I said.
Marcone chuckled. “I think you should hear me out.”
I looked him in the eyes and smiled faintly. “No. Get out.”
His fatherly manner vanished, and his eyes became cold. “I have neither the time nor the tolerance for your childishness, Mr. Dresden. People are dying. You are now working on the case. I have information for you, and I will give it to you. For a price.”
I felt my back stiffen. I stared at him for a long minute, and then said, “All right. Let’s hear your price.”

So anyway, my point is that I honestly still don’t see them fucking. He has so much chemistry with Morgan but this is like a kid interacting with his dad. And not even like a teenage boy, he’s like ten at best. And there isn’t even that bleed of unhealthy repression that characterizes his thoughts so often with women so it doesn’t come with elements of some fucked up pseudo-incest ship, so you’d still have to set that up before the ship can sail. Meanwhile you could just say “Morgan and Harry were locked in a room together, therefore they fucked” without needing to do any more work.

It definitely isn’t hard to say they’re fucking, fanfic is good at explaining basically anyone fucking, but I don’t get why it’s an all-consuming monster when you have another power imbalance gay ship handed to you on a silver (sword) platter, so what gives? Does the fandom not really kick into gear until several books later, and by then Harry does have some fucked up incest thing added in to his descriptions of how fatherly Marcone is?

Okay so anyway.

Marcone is here with a consultant contact to give Harry piles upon piles of money in return for pretty much nothing because he wants to formalize our working relationship.” and Harry goes on and fucking on about what a suuuper great deal it is so he can show off how super great he is by not agreeing.

There was even a clause that specified that I would not be asked or expected to perform any unlawful acts.

Harry mostly just talks about so much money. So much. And so much being able to not help people.

running my legs off working for every paranoid looney who wanted to hire me to investigate his great-aunt’s possessed cow.

See, the real problem here is we’ve established Harry really doesn’t know much about the supernatural. He spends last book establishing he can’t identify a spell and doesn’t know what vampires are, but he’s still smug about how the muggles are dumb. Also, he spent the entire book blowing off a woman telling him her husband was a wizard plz investigate because lol like she knows. This book, he’s explained he knows nothing about werewolves, but again, smug fuck about how dumb the muggles are.

In short, if Harry is allowed to pick and choose his cases, odds are he’d blow off people who actually need his help.

I could catch up on reading, finally, do the magical research I’d been itching to do for the past few years. I wouldn’t live forever, and every hour that I wasted looking for UFOs in Joliet was one more hour I couldn’t spend doing something I wanted to do.

Also someone said that wizards live hundreds of years so fuck you so very much Harry.

He then compares it to a collar because WEREWOLF BOOK we’re gonna WEREWOLF every chance we get this is how you do foreshadowing right???

Harry’s all keep your stupid blood money, which as always I don’t really get because he’s just going to use it to make more blood money, you do realize that? The blood money issue usually is because by taking the money you’re helping the system continue, but that wouldn’t be a sueish enough contract for precious Harry. Marcone uses his money to do bad stuff. If you reduce the money, he has that much less power. It probably doesn’t matter because I think he has infinite money, but in theory it should be a good idea. The issue is the hold he’d have over you as a result, but Harry gives no fucks about doing things just because people technically paid him to do that. That was the plot of the entire last book! Marcone is not going to have any better luck.

“So my bodyguard spontaneously combusted.”
“Uh-huh yeah that’s totally a thing I know about but can’t give you any details right now.”
“Can you work on figuring out the details?”
“Yeah I will definitely do that and not blow you off to go hang out at the wizard pub.”
“…”

Harry does realize that maybe being purely antagonistic could get in the way of the werewolves and all.

“Let me make you an offer, John,” I said. I saw the corner of his cheek twitch when I used his first name. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll do my best to nail the killer before he comes for you.”

So what actually just happened is Harry said, “I couldn’t possibly take your blood money, I want to work for you for free.”

Harry’s author-backed perception kicks in and he knows that Marcone is super scared. Marcone’s all wtf werewolf I don’t have to think I’m next to want it to gone but Harry could smell him lying and by the way he’s so soulless and terrible.

“I am a man of business, Mr. Dresden. Would you prefer anarchy in the streets? Wars between rival crime lords? I bring order to that chaos.”
“No. You just make the chaos more efficient and organized,” I shot back.

You sure showed him, Harry.

Then Harry remembers he’s gotta keep the WEREWOLF quota up, and finishes with you’re a thug, a fucking animal that should be in a cage.

Marcone is rapidly getting more pissed off, but Harry has apparently lost it and just keeps doing and mocking him about ~what could the killer be~ and all the details of how the guy was torn up and that’ll be ~you~ because doggies eat tigers~~~ HAHAHAHAHAHAHA and I’m not sure if this is madness or just Harry taking the stupidity gold here.

“If we were in public, Mr. Dresden, I’d have you killed for speaking that way to me.”
“If we were in public,” I told him, “you’d try.” I drew myself up and glared down my nose at him, ignoring Hendricks’s looming presence. “Now. Get the hell out of my office.”

But see, that’s the problem. Harry actually doesn’t have much to fear from this guy, because he’s incredibly powerful and can set things on fire with his mind. He can take the deal and go LOL JK whenever he feels like it. And so long as Marcone makes the first swing, Harry’s allowed to use lethal magic force “in self-defense” – and the first swing isn’t even a big deal given he’s got a shield charm.

Anyway Marcone is just wtf is wrong with you, look, it’s Harley MacFinn working on the Northwest Passage Project, presumably with a disappointed look about what an incredibly crap detective Harry is.

“Why should I believe you?” I asked him.

You just explained he’s terrified and wants this thing gone, Harry.

He looked back at me. “You have seen the deepest reaches of my soul Mr. Dresden. You know me in a way so profound and intimate that I cannot yet fathom its significance. Just as I know you.

Okay, I’ll grant you that was pretty gay. Not enough to make up for the way everything else is so father/son.

He smiled again, wintry. “Just as you should know that it was unwise to make an enemy of me. It need not have been this way.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you know me so well, you should know that there’s no other way it could be.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, and did not try to refute me. “Pity,” he said. “A true pity.”

Seriously. He’s just so disappointed dad all the time. So accepting of Harry’s stupid, stupid choices.

I covered my face with my hands, noticing as I did that they were shaking, too. I hadn’t realized the depth of the disgust in me for Marcone and what he stood for. I hadn’t realized how much it had sickened me to have my name associated with his. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to launch myself at the man and smash him in the nose with my fists.

So in conclusion my theory is someone told the author that mobsters are actually terrible people and he looked dumb for thinking otherwise, and he was all FUCK GOTTA FIX THIS RETCON POWERS GOOOOOOOO

Harry then remembers he’s supposed to pretend to be an underdog here and whines that Marcone could have killed me. He could have had Hendricks tear me apart, or put a bullet in me right there because Harry is just an ordinary guy, you know? He explains the only reason he’s still alive is that straight up murder isn’t Icy Cougar’s way.

Then Harry recaps the scene. We’re looking to have a lot of recaps this book. And he wanders from that to a ramble about how as a wizard he’s the only one who can handle spooky stuff.

Marcone wanted me to stand by him, to help him not be afraid of those things lurking in the dark.

I’m pretty sure he just wants the werewolf to stop eating his business partners so he can close the deal.

And the author begins to back down from the hating thing because mobsters are just too cool.

I wanted to hate the man, but disgust, maybe anger, was as far as I could go. Too much of what he said was true. Marcone was a businessman. He had reduced violence in the streets—while sending the number of dollars made by criminals in this town soaring. He had protected the city’s flesh while siphoning away its blood, poisoning its soul. It changed nothing, nothing at all.

This suggests that Harry is actually some flavor of Lawful, because he seems to object to criminals as a class regardless of if they’re actually causing harm. Lawful Incompetent?

the man I knew, the tiger-souled predator

So this is particularly stupid when it’s in the werewolf book and you spent all of last chapter insisting the rage spirits were “beast” spirits/souls. You can’t insist those things are synonemous at the same time and have the metaphor mean something completely different for another character.

Anyway, Harry finishes up by saying previously he totally wasn’t worried at all but knowing Dad is scared makes him super scared despite his whole spiel about how muggles are scared of stuff and need wizards to unscary things. This would appear to be some sort of denial because he’s obviously been scared shitless from the start, from his “Murphy oh my god it was a wolf it was a wolf and it didn’t kill me let me spew facts about how much it could’ve killed me if it had wanted to in the least wolves are unstoppable murder machines all cower before them!!!” to the most recent “holy shit that man is going to chew through my larynx fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck”.