Sydney laid down the paint brush at last and took a few steps back to gaze lovingly up at his work.
“Don’t you think it’s a little…” I hesitated, “…dangerous? Cruel even?”
Sydney snorted, “They have it coming. Flying about like they own the sky. Should teach them a lesson.”
“But you have to live here too. It’ll be rather dangerous for you too, you know.”
Sydney shrugged and began to gather the spent paint tins, most tinged with traces of sky blue, a few with cloudy white.
“Hilltop House can take a few impacts. She’s a sturdy old thing.”
I frowned at the tall Victorian manor, stinking from its fresh decoration. From its seat on the crown of a high hill, we could see the landscape stretch on and on. But the house itself blended against the sky perfectly, complete with a few wisps of cloud. Sydney’s labour of malice.
“Oh yes,” he crooned gleefully. “This’ll teach those blasted aeroplanes to fly low over my hill.”