She rolled on a draft that came in seawards, using the extra heft to fly higher with just a wing turn, and drifted lazily above the wooly monsoon clouds that blanketed the city. The gleaming towers of BKC lay to the left, lights ablaze, all edges, metal and glass. The radio had said winds of 30 to 40 miles per hour, but this was a strong gust really, as the wind whistled past nodding palm leaves fringing the shore a tin roof or two flew off, but up here it all was all serene and calm. Perhaps in a while she’d swoop and check on lunch in the glittering waters off the sea-link, but not just yet.