just when you thought it was over
Strat does occasionally do something that is not related to his investigation.
Right now, for example, he is sitting out by the lake with a violin, making beautiful music.
Right now, for example, he is sitting out by the lake with a violin, making beautiful music.
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Yeah, he's here. He resisted it, but Milliways was very insistent. His giving in might have had something to do with the fact that it finally stopped grabbing him in his dressing-gown.
Instead of crutches, he's limping along with a wooden leg and a walking stick. Not that it's noticeably wooden, of course: it's covered by smart shoe and trouser-leg, and could just be stiff if Strat hadn't witnessed it to be entirely missing.
It's the end of a work day, so his clothes are a well-tailored businessman's, but he's been personally overseeing a major catch, so the smell of the sea - salt, stale water, fish of every Atlantic kind - still clings to him.
He stands not far away, recognising Strat, but choosing to enjoy his playing rather than disturb him.
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Eventually, the notes trail gracefully off.
"Good evening."
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With his free hand, he tips his hat.
"Seems that my leaving here wasn't to this place's liking."
He's no fan of its ability to bring him here without warning or consent, but there's not much he can do about it right now. He's been gazing at the sky, and now his eyes lift to it again, as though he can't quite take his eyes off it.
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He doesn't mention Antony's fascination with the sky, but rest assured he notices.
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