Rene’s knees are giving him fits.
Tiny’s ears flatten. Unusual from him, when he’s got his binoculars up. Funniest thing, the stag-headed zoomorph in a gimme cap, peering through binoculars and scowling like any other frustrated hunter in the parish. Harder than it sounds, staking out a hotel parking lot. Reservation for three, yep. Gotta love small towns.
Tiny gives up the binoculars. Rene gets them focused. Squint harder, but no mistaking it.
The tired guy with ten feet of snakey tail flopped sidewise out of the back car door has lifted a violin from the case on his lap.