Jack Vettriano The Apprentice

Jack Vettriano The ApprenticeJack Vettriano The Administration of JusticeJack Vettriano Table for One
set the glass down and twanged it with a bony digit.
It went whauuummmmeeee‑chida‑chida‑chida.
HE HAS NO LIFE. HE HAS MUSIC.
'Music's taken him over?'
YOU COULD PUT IT LIKE THAT.
'Making his life longer?'
LIFE IS EXTENSIBLE. IT HAPPENS OCCASIONALLY AMONG HUMANS. NOT OFTEN. USUALLY TRAGICALLY, IN A THEATRICAL KINDIT IS NOTHING IMPORTANT. A PIECE OF MYTHOLOGICAL DEBRIS. MATTERS WILL RESOLVE THEMSELVES, YOU MAY DEPEND UPON IT.
'What do you mean, resolve themselves?'
HE WILL PROBABLY BE DEAD IN A MATTER OF DAYS.
Susan stared at the lifetimer. OF WAY. BUT THIS ISN'T ANOTHER HUMAN. THIS IS MUSIC.'He played something, on some sort of stringed instrument like a guitar–'Death turned.INDEED? WELL, WELL, WELL . . .'Is that important?'IT IS . . . INTERESTING.'Is it something I should know?'
'But that's dreadful!'