EXT. DAY. A rotten, rainy, blustery day, but day nonetheless. A group of Witches slog through the dreadful weather, their hair and uniforms sodden. They look utterly miserable. Far below, a lead-grey sea churns ominously, and only vague impressions of a coastline can be made out.
EILA JUUTILAINEN-LITVYAK drops back from the front and pauses amid several of her colleagues in the middle of the formation. GRYPHON is among them, wearing his Orussian low-light goggles.
Where the heck are we?
GRYPHON peers thoughtfully at the theoretical coastline below, then points to what looks like an island.
We must be over the Irish Sea by now, so... I think that would be the Isle of Man.
EILA snickers audibly. GRYPHON raises his head to give her a puzzled look.
You said "I love man".
Nearby in the formation, LYNETTE BISHOP giggles, ERICA HARTMANN laughs outright, and SHIZUKA HATTORI snorts a little guiltily. At the front of the formation, HEINRIKE PRINZESSIN ZU SAYN-WITTGENSTEIN rolls her eyes.
Oh, DO grow up, Eila.
At least it isn't the Isle of Dogs.
EILA nearly collides with ERICA as both of them burst out laughing. SHIZUKA coughs. HEINRIKE facepalms.