Dietre hadn't been particularly talkative during the walk to the beach, and that was actually almost a relief to Ford. Both of them seemed anxious, but the vampire couldn't tell if it was for similar reasons. Dietre probably just wanted to get to the piano. Ford just wanted to stick his head in the sand for a little while and forget the world existed.
The distraction was good. Being able to help with something he'd signed on for a while ago, even if it wasn't the same instrument, was better. Hopefully They would wait a few days to make anyone regret the effort this would take. He didn't want to think about what had happened the day before, or that morning, or certain witches and their horrible life choices that they apparently didn't have any regrets over. Or what that would mean down the line. Or having to make decisions for himself about that.
The sun was a pain in the ass, though, as always. The weather being nice was lucky, though, considering the precious cargo they'd be hauling.
Stepping into the club, it was pretty much the same as when he and Oriana had left it, which was a little surprising considering the cleanup job it looked like P-5 had gotten overnight. Another thing he really didn't want to think of. In retrospect, it was good that they'd been both sober and not in the mood for heavy damage the night they'd gone a'smashing. Not that Ford would have ever touched the piano.
And there it was, pretty and pristine, and....
"God, that's white," he snorted out a laugh, lifting up his sunglasses to get a better look at it. "Not that the color matters, it just wasn't what I was expecting."