siver

Rain washes down the window. The professor sets the kettle on the stove with a slight frown. He should have been here by now if he was coming at all. Sense dictates calling a rain check in its most literal form, but then while the professor is willing to concede to intelligence and general cleverness, he is quite ready to hold up sense as a point for debate.

Point proven when the door flies open, letting the rain in briefly before Cabanela lets it fall shut behind him. The professor raises an eyebrow at him.

"You're late."

The man is drenched, water dripping off his coat, hair falling apart from its normal styling. How long had the fool been out there?

"Haven't heard of an umbrella, have you?"

Cabanela waves an airy hand. "Had a bit of an iiincident. It's gettin' some use I can tell you that."

"What are you babbling about?"

He tosses himself into the chair near the stove and stretches out comfortably. "Nothin' mooore than the machinations of a clever opponent, baby." With that mysterious comment he brushes away some stray drops from his coat and gives the kettle an interested—possibly overly so, in the professor's opinion—look. "Is that tea?"

The professor pours him a mug with a shake of his head, still wondering what on earth he’s on about and passes it to him. "Care to elaborate?"

Cabanela only lifts the mug in reply. "Cheers, prof!"

In a darkened park the rain continues to beat down accompanied by the sound of rustling grass. If there was anyone to see it, they would see a yellow shape moving through the grass, resolving itself into an open, bright yellow umbrella.

From behind a head emerges on a long and elegant white neck. Wings flare and the quiet of the park is broken by a triumphant honk.