LOG: Layover

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On her way home, Jennie has an encounter in a Paris airport.



Jennie had tried, honestly she had. Her father had left on business a scant three days before, and her sister had practically begged her to stay longer. While Jennie had come to adore Ollie, she and her father were the only things that made her stay bearable. Sure, she was in an exotic local in a "lake house" that made the mansion look positively drab, but combined with the twin terrors that were her 10-year-old brothers and the continual ice storm from her stepmother, Jennie had decided that she'd had enough family to last her until Christmas. Or possibly Easter. Of 2008.

So she'd hopped the first flight to the states she could find. Unfortunately, something went wrong somewhere and her connecting flight at Charles de Gaulle International had been cancelled or re-routed or whatever it was. Ending up with Jennie being stranded in a foreign country where she didn't speak the language for the next seventeen hours. She'd wandered her way through the cold, gleaming terminals until she found something that resembled chairs. Jennie ignored the looks the other occupants were giving her as she searched desperately for her cellphone. A quick call home to let them know her flight was being delayed, and to hear a friendly voice sure wouldn't hurt.

"Son of a fucking bitch." Jennie hissed, going through the pockets of her carry-on bag. She put her cellphone in the front, why couldn't she find it, oh there it was- She pulled it out triumphantly, only to have it slip from her fingers and shatter magnificently on the polished marble floor.

"Motherfucker."

A burst of movement across the terminal, one more jagged yellow swirl almost lost in an ocean of the same. Eyes followed, and locked.

Jennie picked up the shattered remnants of her phone. The casing had cracked in half, and the screen part had broken off from the dial pad completely. How it managed that, Jennie had no idea. Sighing, she patted her shoulder bag in hopes of finding some change in which to call the payphone with. She stood and dragged her other bag with her, mentally very pleased with the fact that she didn't believe in checking baggage, even if it meant hauling two bags all over the airport.

In and out, in and out -- passing between knots of color like a distant lantern moving through the trees. There, right there across the terminal, glowing under the vault of glass.

"Shit shit shit..." Jennie muttered. The payphone rejected her credit card yet again. And she didn't understand a word of French. How in the hell was she supposed to switch it to English if she couldn't understand the instructions in how to switch it English? She turned and fished in her bags for coins. She had to have some Euros still.

Walking now, unaware of the first step taken, pushing through a world of shape and movement gone flat. One foot in front of the other, brisk with tension and sudden purpose. Moving. Moving. Moving toward the only real thing in the hall.

Where did I...ah-hah! In the makeup bag, there were still some coins left over from what her sister had given her that morning. She pulled them out and blew some of the makeup residue off of them before stuffing one in the slot. Only to have them come out in the change tray. Jennie sighed in frustration, and tried again. And again. She tried another coin, that one was rejected. Jennie growled angrily before picking up the receiver and slamming it down, loudly.

Closer. Closer.

There.

"What the hell are you staring at?" She snapped at the patron using the next phone, who was looking at Jennie like she had suddenly sprouted two heads and started breathing fire. She shouldered her bag again. Might as well go sit back down and figure out a way to amuse herself for the next 16-and-a-half hours, one that didn't involve breaking things if she didn't get her temper under control. "Stupid country with a stupid language and a stupid plane that won't ah-!" Jennie turned and jumped back in surprise.

"Marius?"