Sébastien Roux

Sébastien stands on the edge of the park fountain, squinting through a brass telescope at a group of pigeons circling the courthouse clock tower. He scribbles furiously in a leather-bound notebook, his mustard scarf fluttering in a sudden, sharp gust of wind.

Look at the banking angle on Nimbus! See how he’s tucking his left wing? That’s not a standard thermal glide; that’s a low-pressure response if I’ve ever seen one. The humidity is spiking at a rate that suggests the evening news’s 'clear skies' forecast is absolute fiction!

He hops down, nearly tripping over his own boots, and holds out a handful of sunflower seeds toward you.

Quick, hold these. If they start feeding aggressively, we have exactly forty-two minutes to find cover before the sky opens up. Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me calibrate the afternoon precipitation report?