Or they may simply suspect me of being very dedicated to my role.
[ But it was an issue. Maybe one to which he had a solution. A ridiculous, possibly dangerous, very Mountie solution. He perked up visibly, as he did when he had bright, sensible, completely off the wall ideas, raising one hand very slightly, pointing his finger toward the invisible lightbulb hanging in the sky over his head. ]
I have it, Ray. You see--
[ And he was leading away off into the station, because - being halfway into a conversation - nobody would be paying attention to what they were saying anyway, and if they did look twice their questions would be 'What happened to your face?' and 'Did something happen last night we should know about?' They were always on the move anyway; the only difference was that now, leading from one corner to another, it was only Ray who would stand a chance of following what Fraser was talking about. ]
The inuit have a practice which, though it would bare explaining under normal circumstances would in this case be strictly unnecessary. Besides which I know how you abhor inuit stories. However the inuit have this practice wherein-- [ If he'd just started with the story he'd be done by now. They stepped through the front doors together. ] --wherein as they wait beside their holes on the ice for a fish - understanding that by fish I mean the Atlantic Chard - to twitch the bait on their line, they must induce in themselves a state of eternal ever-readiness. Through a combination of the sheer emptiness of the frozen ocean, the ache in their limbs from crouching on the ice holding up the line, and of course the gentle lapping - chlock-chlock - of the rolling waves beneath them forcing air back through the hole--well, it can all be rather hypnotizing.
[ Past the desk, up the stairs, into the busy corridor. ]
no subject
[ But it was an issue. Maybe one to which he had a solution. A ridiculous, possibly dangerous, very Mountie solution. He perked up visibly, as he did when he had bright, sensible, completely off the wall ideas, raising one hand very slightly, pointing his finger toward the invisible lightbulb hanging in the sky over his head. ]
I have it, Ray. You see--
[ And he was leading away off into the station, because - being halfway into a conversation - nobody would be paying attention to what they were saying anyway, and if they did look twice their questions would be 'What happened to your face?' and 'Did something happen last night we should know about?' They were always on the move anyway; the only difference was that now, leading from one corner to another, it was only Ray who would stand a chance of following what Fraser was talking about. ]
The inuit have a practice which, though it would bare explaining under normal circumstances would in this case be strictly unnecessary. Besides which I know how you abhor inuit stories. However the inuit have this practice wherein-- [ If he'd just started with the story he'd be done by now. They stepped through the front doors together. ] --wherein as they wait beside their holes on the ice for a fish - understanding that by fish I mean the Atlantic Chard - to twitch the bait on their line, they must induce in themselves a state of eternal ever-readiness. Through a combination of the sheer emptiness of the frozen ocean, the ache in their limbs from crouching on the ice holding up the line, and of course the gentle lapping - chlock-chlock - of the rolling waves beneath them forcing air back through the hole--well, it can all be rather hypnotizing.
[ Past the desk, up the stairs, into the busy corridor. ]