September 16th, 1891 — Tycho's Home, Wellingtonshire

The chances that someone like Tycho Dodonus would be awake at this hour (particularly when Ford knew first hand that he had been drinking the night before) were slim to none, but here Ford was anyway, pounding away on his front door. When they'd been spending time together last night and Dodonus had said something vague about a vision, Ford had shrugged it off. He didn't put nearly as much stock in divination as some people did (like Verity), and while he wouldn't have wanted to be rude by coming right out and saying he didn't believe Dodonus' vision had any bearing on reality... he hadn't believed that Dodonus' vision had any bearing on reality. His first indication that anything was actually wrong had come with Noble's letter, and it wasn't until much later, when he was laying in his bed trying and failing to fall asleep, that he'd realized the similarity in the situation with what Dodonus had said last night.

Once he'd started to put two and two together, he'd gotten restless all over again. Really, Tycho was lucky that Ford hadn't walked over right when the idea had struck him around three in the morning — this was a much more respectable six in the morning, which was as long as Ford had been able to wait. He was dressed for work (which he didn't want to go to but supposed he should, since there was nothing he could do at home), but otherwise he looked a mess; it was obvious he hadn't slept since he'd left Dodonus' house the night before.

The door opened and Ford walked in without waiting for an invitation. "Tell me again what you saw last night."

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