So now they lounged in the forward pilotchair, looking through the clear orb of the piscine eye at silvery-clouds of water vapour, and pretended a light, airy tone. "Jean, my beloved, are you well and ready to go?"

Hooded eyes stare with fierce intensity across the scarred oak table as the creature looms out of the shadows. "I had never thought to see another..." he muses.

I nod my glass of claret in Adam's direction. The dregs glint like drops of spilled blood in the candlelight.

There weren't no good way to say Colin, mate, this is shit, you don't deserve it, but we bloody love you and we'll get through it, alright? Cos no matter how you said it his head was too full of angry buzzing to hear it.