As it turned out, Elizabeth found herself sitting next to the strange guy on the plane, as well. Right next to him, in one of the rearmost window seats
that was a set of two instead of three. The coincidence struck her as odd, even in her sleep-deprived and travel-fatigued state, but she brushed it off as an
odd quirk of fate. She had a laugh about it, as did the man called Walker, while he helped her fit her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
"Seriously," he grunted, as he gave the bag another shove, "what do you have in here? A dismembered corpse?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She was glad for the assistance, seeing as how the storage space was a bit too high up for her to reach without drastic
acrobatics. Her one attempt at reaching it alone had resulted in a near-collision with the poor old lady across the aisle. But she could do without the
commentary.
"No," she responded, not giving in to the barb, "I left it back in my hotel room. That's just the murder weapon."
"Good girl," Walker said, in an intentionally patronizing fashion, "sticking it to the air security fascists. Always travel with a bladed
implement. Me, I've got a nice little magic sword in my own carry-on."
"Really," Elizabeth retorted, sceptically. The old lady in the next seat gave them an exceedingly odd look, which Elizabeth studiously ignored.
"Oh, yes," Walker nodded, as he finally manoeuvred the duffle in next to his own briefcase, "never know when you'll need a good melee
weapon. Very useful thing to have."
"Really," Elizabeth repeated. She exhaled, audibly. "I'll just stick to my boring old bag filled with cameras, toiletries, and
things."
"Suit yourself," replied Walker, as he shut and latched the compartment, "now...you want to swap seats, by any chance?"
"Uh, no," Elizabeth said, as she slid in and settled down, searching for the ends of the seatbelt, "I kinda like to look out the
window."
"Certainly," Walker nodded, agreeably, as he took his own place, "thought you might, just wanted to make sure. Be a gentleman and all
that."
Elizabeth smacked her forehead with the back of her hand. "Are you for real?"
"It's actually a cunningly constructed act designed to lure you into a false sense of confidence," Walker answered blandly, with a perfectly
straight face.
She stared at him, incredulously.
He turned his head just enough to return her look, arching his eyebrows and giving a small little smile. "Kidding."
"Yeah...right," Elizabeth grumbled, sinking deeper into her seat. She didn't know whether to laugh...or be completely and utterly freaked
out. A bit of both, perhaps, but tending increasingly to the latter. She was starting to realise that she had many hours of transcontinental non-stop air
travel to look forward to, all next to this guy.
Figuring silence to be the best option, she closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep.
She'd just managed to tune out the noise of footsteps and other passengers making their way aboard the plane, when the rustle of magazine pages sounded
beside her ear.
"Oh, look," said Walker, "they've got 'Van Helsing' on this flight. The Hugh Jackman film. I love that one."
"Oh God," Elizabeth moaned.
-- Acyl
that was a set of two instead of three. The coincidence struck her as odd, even in her sleep-deprived and travel-fatigued state, but she brushed it off as an
odd quirk of fate. She had a laugh about it, as did the man called Walker, while he helped her fit her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
"Seriously," he grunted, as he gave the bag another shove, "what do you have in here? A dismembered corpse?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She was glad for the assistance, seeing as how the storage space was a bit too high up for her to reach without drastic
acrobatics. Her one attempt at reaching it alone had resulted in a near-collision with the poor old lady across the aisle. But she could do without the
commentary.
"No," she responded, not giving in to the barb, "I left it back in my hotel room. That's just the murder weapon."
"Good girl," Walker said, in an intentionally patronizing fashion, "sticking it to the air security fascists. Always travel with a bladed
implement. Me, I've got a nice little magic sword in my own carry-on."
"Really," Elizabeth retorted, sceptically. The old lady in the next seat gave them an exceedingly odd look, which Elizabeth studiously ignored.
"Oh, yes," Walker nodded, as he finally manoeuvred the duffle in next to his own briefcase, "never know when you'll need a good melee
weapon. Very useful thing to have."
"Really," Elizabeth repeated. She exhaled, audibly. "I'll just stick to my boring old bag filled with cameras, toiletries, and
things."
"Suit yourself," replied Walker, as he shut and latched the compartment, "now...you want to swap seats, by any chance?"
"Uh, no," Elizabeth said, as she slid in and settled down, searching for the ends of the seatbelt, "I kinda like to look out the
window."
"Certainly," Walker nodded, agreeably, as he took his own place, "thought you might, just wanted to make sure. Be a gentleman and all
that."
Elizabeth smacked her forehead with the back of her hand. "Are you for real?"
"It's actually a cunningly constructed act designed to lure you into a false sense of confidence," Walker answered blandly, with a perfectly
straight face.
She stared at him, incredulously.
He turned his head just enough to return her look, arching his eyebrows and giving a small little smile. "Kidding."
"Yeah...right," Elizabeth grumbled, sinking deeper into her seat. She didn't know whether to laugh...or be completely and utterly freaked
out. A bit of both, perhaps, but tending increasingly to the latter. She was starting to realise that she had many hours of transcontinental non-stop air
travel to look forward to, all next to this guy.
Figuring silence to be the best option, she closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep.
She'd just managed to tune out the noise of footsteps and other passengers making their way aboard the plane, when the rustle of magazine pages sounded
beside her ear.
"Oh, look," said Walker, "they've got 'Van Helsing' on this flight. The Hugh Jackman film. I love that one."
"Oh God," Elizabeth moaned.
-- Acyl