"Heaven forbid anyone cast you in the role of nursemaid," strikes a fine balance between viciously cheerful and disparaging as there on the stage, the latest movement turns towards its close.

With a thoughtless deft turn of the hand, Ralston disengages the silver dog headed cane from where it lay hooked across his ankle.

"Let's snip the apron strings then, shall we? I'll meet you back at your hotel to compare notes. Unless of course," warrants a sidelong look in the dark. "You'd rather have me to hand."