The Orchid: In Transit

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Stuck on a plane somewhere between Westchester and Madripoor, Scott and Jean contemplate the 'family business' that's taken them away from the mansion so unexpectedly.


"I can't believe we have to take three planes to get there," Scott groused, eyeing the view of the Pacific out the window beside him. "We're spoiled when it comes to transportation, have you noticed that? And God only knows what he'll have gotten into by the time we get there. I don't believe for a minute that he's going to just sit there and wait for us." His father did not strike him as the type.

Jean was seriously considering breaking into her massive bottle of painkillers. Three planes meant four airports, meant four stops full of people who HATED airports, and her head was killing her. "We are spoiled. I like our plane. I like the lack of public in our not-so-public-transportation."

"It also hits me that we're dropping everything and running off to help my father. Which has me wondering if I fell in the Danger Room and hit my head or something," Scott said sourly.

Jean gave him a rather flat look. "Conversely, your father, knowing how terribly fond of him you are, still thinks his problem is something we need to be involved in. At least your tactical sense still triumphs over the family feud."

Scott raised a hand, thumb and forefinger held about half a centimeter. "By about this much," he grumbled. "I should have brought Alex. Then I could have thrown him at the old bastard if any potential bonding moments snuck up on us."

Jean leaned back as much as was possible in the cramped airline chair and shrugged. "I'd promise to run interference on any and all bonding moments, but you'd know I was lying..."

"Traitor," Scott said, half-seriously, and checked his watch. "I suppose it's only to be expected that our old, uh, friend found his way out of that Peruvian jail," he said. "Though what he's doing in Madripoor stealing from pirates under his alias..." They were just lucky Doug had dug that piece of info up when he'd done the initial research on Haverford. "'Vargas'," Scott said, his lips curling. "Nothing like naming yourself after a Bond villain to prove that you are well and truly fruit loops."

"Did we really need the proof?" Jean asked wistfully. "I was perfectly happy taking it on faith that he was madder than a hatter."

Scott grumbled and shifted in his seat, slouching. "Two of my least favorite people, interacting in illegal and vaguely alarming ways. This is going to be such a great trip."

"On the plus side, you can punch Haverford as much as you want and neither Alex nor myself will get upset with you," Jean offered.

"Ah, fringe benefits."