The Great Raindrop Grand Prix

I tapped my claw against the chilly glass of the French window, sizing up two fat raindrops poised near the top frame. A torrential Paris night clearly demands elite indoor entertainment: high-stakes window racing. I backed the droplet on the left, crouched low, and urged it forward with a brisk, dramatic whistle. Down they hurtled! My champion executed a brilliant diagonal slide, merged with a stray trickle to double its mass, and crossed the brass latch a full second ahead. Naturally, an operative with my eye never picks a runner-up. I puffed out my chest and tapped the pane in fond salute.