Alan was in a serene mood today. Not... that he could really tell. Though the weather outside was about to get frightful, Alan seemed calm, almost eager to be out in the middle of things for once. Slowly, he lifted his arm and pointed out to the north. "Front hasn't come through yet," he said, as if this was common sense. "Not all of it." People tended to think of frontal boundaries as large blankets of clouds, sweeping in and changing the weather below in an instant. It wasn't like that at all.
Alan understood weather, better than he understood anything else in life. The damn thing actually made sense. To hell with everyone who couldn't actually see it. "Fronts can be disjointed," he explained. "Depending on how fast they come in or if they're disrupted by another system, they can move through quickly or come down in pieces." This one in particular had been stationary for a day and a half somewhere in Canada, but it was finally pressing through despite being broken and battered.
"Soon," he said quietly and lowered his hand to his side once more.