[-][L-A][P-1x1] My Bonnie Flies Over Ocean

[Lady Sherlock]

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+++++++++++Ⓜy Bonnie lies over the ocean
+++++++++++++Ⓜy Bonnie lies over the sea
+++++++++++++++Ⓜy Bonnie lies over the ocean
+++++++++++++++++Ⓞh bring back my Bonnie to me!

『 You're Flying this Airline 』

Marcel Toulouse Soulangée is a French flight attendant who works for Monarque Air, flying all over the world, with his main home base being France. He loves to travel, and loves to help people, so it really is quite a perfect job for him, as he flies back and forth across both ocean and land, going more places than many would go in their lifetimes.

Phinneas—Fin—Ericson is an American journalist who works for the New Yorker as one of their main travel correspondents. He too travels the world searching for new places and shedding light on new things, and enjoys the spirit of adventure. Finn enjoys his job greatly as well, and takes great pleasure in seeing the world for himself.

Therefore, it is only right that fate brought these two together on a flight to none other than Munich, a flight on which they touch off their friendship, and possibly a relationship that leads to much, much more.  

[Lady Sherlock]

『 Passengers and Flight Attendants 』

Ⓜarcel Ⓣoulouse Ⓢoulangée
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Passport Says~
Given Name: Lady Sherlock
Age: 28
Gender: M
Date of Birth: May 22
Issued From: France
This Floats My Boat:
✈ Traveling and experiencing new things
✈ Romance novels
✈ Cooking
✈ Sweet food
This Ticks Me Off:
✈ Easily agitated people
✈ Yelling
✈ Monotonous cubicle work
Customs Stamps Collected:
Marcel was born and raised in a suburb just outside of Paris to two loving parents. His father was a mathematician and professor, and his mother was a painter. They both had a pretty decent income, and Marcel was generally without wants, for he never really wanted much anyways. He grew up happy and had a pretty normal childhood, if you put aside all the traveling that he did. His parents loved to travel, and didn't stop just because they had a child. In fact, because of it, they traveled even more. By the time Marcel was 12, he had traveled to every single continent already except Antarctica, and it was only a matter of time before that happened as well.

When Marcel was in high school, he started thinking about what he wanted to do. He was the kid who had many friends and was generally nice to everyone. He was very outgoing, and gained a lot of his opportunities that way.
Marcel loved to travel, and so he tried his hand at photography, having gained a little of his mom's creativity. However, he didn't gain her knack and talent, and found that it was too solitary a job. His father had hoped that his boy would go into mathematics, but Marcel obviously showed an interest in travel the most, so the man just laid back to see where Marcel would land himself.

Upon entering college, Marcel studied languages for a while to see if he could live life as an interpreter, but found that if he actually got good at it, he'd have to be an interpreter for ambassadors and stuff, which meant traveling, but also meant very little sight-seeing and experiencing, and quite a bit of negotiations and the like. Dear lord would that be boring! After searching around quite a bit, by the time Marcel graduated college, having majored in linguistics, he decided that he would become a flight attendant. To him, the job was quite a godsend, for it allowed him to travel and get paid for it, while utilizing his energy and outgoing personality that was bright and full of smiles to actually be good at his job. Both of his parents fully supported him in his endeavors, seeing how happy he was at the thought of becoming a flight attendant.

And so Marcel started off his career as a flight attendant, immediately falling into work for Monarque Air, which was a pretty good airline that flew all over the world, so a lot of his large traveling expenses would be ones that would actually pay him instead. Happily, he has been traveling and flight attending for four years thus far.

Behind all the Pictures:
Marcel has a bright and sweet personality. He is quite outgoing, and smiles quite often. He is one of those people who laughs a lot and probably will develop smile lines around his eyes when he gets into his older age. He hates arguments and yelling, and generally likes to talk things out if he ever has a problem with anything. However, he is quite tolerant, so rarely does he ever find issue with anyone or anything.

Marcel was raised pretty polite, though he doesn't like to keep to that much. He can be quite playful and out there, especially with people that he's close to. He loves to be silly and have fun at whatever he's doing, and believes that life is there to be lived, not to be used in order to worry over the future. He tries his best to live adventurously and to the fullest, so that he may die without regrets.

Marcel also has this edge of innocence to him that believes that all people have good in them, and that everyone can and should be forgiven for whatever they do wrong, even if some may take longer for that than others, such as axe-murderers and serial killers. He is the type of person who would reason with a thug trying to mug him, and say with a bright smile that they could probably split the money and go for some coffee together.

That being said, Marcel isn't stupid, nor is he naive. He doesn't trust people right off the bat, and has to spend time with people to develop trust. However, he does like to give people the benefit of the doubt, and always starts a relationship off on a clean slate, unblemished by biases based on looks. Well, he tries his best with that, at least, though no one is perfect and completely without visual prejudice.

Lastly, Marcel is quite protective. Once he loves someone, he is capable of really caring for them. He will try his best to make sure that they are never without comfort, and will do all that he can to ensure that they are happy. He is a little selfish in ways such that even though he may believe that someone is better off without him or would be happier off without him, if he loves that person, then he won't easily let that person go. After all, he was happiness himself as well.

My Interesting Tidbit:
Marcel eats quite spicy, though most people don't peg him for it. His taste for spicy food actually comes from the fact that Thailand is one of his favorite places to visit, and he eats Thai food quite a bit. In addition, he speaks fluent Thai, along with his fluent French and English (even though his English is accented).

Ⓟhineas Ⓔricson
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Passport Says~
Given Name: After Midnight Blue
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: August 28
Issued From: United States of America
This Floats My Boat:
✈ New experiences - food, culture, sights, etc
✈ Challenges - he likes proving his bravery
✈ Kid's picture books - they are just kind of comforting
This Ticks Me Off:
✈ Deep water - he's terrified of it
✈ Olives - he had a bad experience with them as a child
✈ People who speak English but refuse to acknowledge this fact to you because you happen to be American
Customs Stamps Collected:
Phineas was a ridiculous name, and Fin knew this since he was in kindergarten in the suburbs of Chicago. None of the other children could pronounce his name, and besides - Fin sounded like something a shark would be named, which made it a far cooler name than "Phineas". At least, this was his five-year-old logic. And cool was all Fin ever strove to be. Academics took a backseat for most of his childhood in place of other interests, namely of the unknown.

By the time he was twelve the mysteries of dinosaurs, outer space, the deep sea, knights, dragons, and samurais were deemed to be purged, and Fin began looking to his modern world for new adventures. Without ever having left the Chicago area, Fin had caught the traveling bug.

However, as his kind but practical single-mother was quick to inform him, traveling was expensive and money happened to be short at hand. Though this did nothing to crush Fin's ambitious dreams of world travel, it took him until the second semester of his Sophomore year of high school to realize that he needed to get his a** into gear if he wanted to go anywhere. For the last two years of high school, Fin worked endlessly and miserably to bring up his GPA and to become fluent in Spanish. While he would consider this the lowest part of his life, it did land him a decent scholarship at NYU, prompting his first out-of-state trip to the Big Apple itself. Fin was instantly in love with the city, and the excitement it brought him.

During college, Fin somehow managed to land himself a spot on the school newspaper, writing semi-anonymous satirical reviews of on campus events. He was surprised to discover that he could enjoy writing, something which had always been an arduous task for him. His almost flamboyant confidence earned him popularity within his circle of friends, while his articles earned him laughs from the staff. One professor in particular was fond enough of his writing to suggest him to a small local newspaper.

Interning there briefly after graduating, Fin found that he was not content with simply staying and writing in The City. He needed to get out and see the world for himself. His first job as a traveling correspondent was for another paper with a slightly higher budget. His first assignment and out of country trip - Mexico. A disaster, he suffered from food poisoning, adjusting terribly even to the small time difference, misinterpretations, and getting lost several times, all of which was mocked in the article. Luckily, the editors seemed to enjoy the humor, and he quickly became a popular feature in the paper. Bypassing two more papers, each more well known than the last, Fin found himself writing for the New Yorker at twenty-six.

By now his repertoire of countries ranged from Argentina, to Finland, to Australia, with the list continuing to grow.

Behind all the Pictures:
Fin has always been very straight forward, sometimes to the point of being blunt. He will not lie to flatter someone, although over the years he has learned how to phrase his comments in politer ways (e.g. "Does this dress make me look fat?" "It's not you, it's the cut of the dress. That one over there would be much more flattering" ). However, this can make him come across as rather blunt at times, and sometimes too forward with his intentions. Over all, he is rather confident.
He prefers humorous material to tragic, and himself has a dry sort of wit, which can confuse those who are not expecting it in conversation.
While not exceptionally egotistical, he does have some pride. However this pride only seems emerge when it is a question of Fin's bravery. Fin is generally a rather courageous person, and loves to try new things, but sometimes it can get the best of him. He was the child on the playground who took the dare and jumped off the monkey bars to prove he could, disregarding the fact that it meant his arm was in a cast for weeks, and still consider it a good decision. That does not in anyway mean he is fearless - he is petrified of deep water, and will sacrifice his pride rather than go too near it.
It is not difficult to make him blush if you know the correct way to do it. Vulgar, sexual conversations will barely make him him blink an eye, but god forbid people start talking about FEELINGS. Or worse, the inner workings of womanhood. While Fin considers himself versatile and as happy with a woman as a man, women actually make him rather uncomfortable.

My Interesting Tidbit:
Fin is trilingual, his first language being English, and his second and third being Spanish and Swahili respectively. However, because he started them so late in life, he has a permanent American accent no matter what he speaks. He has picked up a few key phrases in a multitude of other languages, but not with any proficiency. He is particularly horrible at German.

While he is not afraid of pain, once he is in pain, Fin is kind of a wimp.

In addition, though he does have very light blond hair naturally, Fin continues to bleach his hair. Lord only knows why...  

[Lady Sherlock]

『 Laws and Governmental Regulations 』

✈ Follow Gaia's ToS
✈ Keep it PG-13
✈ Be literate, kudasai!
✈ Have LOADS of airplane fun~  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

Marcel stepped into the airport bright and early, a little before the sun was even up. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was three thirty in the morning. To the average person, that sure was early to arrive at work, but for Marcel, it was perfectly normal. He really didn't have hours, for his job was flight attending, and flights left at any time of day. He generally got there pretty early though, for he never liked being late, and always wanted to be prepared, just in case any mishaps would occur along the way. This morning was a good one, however, in the sense that he got to La Guardia Airport without a hitch and was feeling quite refreshed and ready for the flight ahead, the flight to Germany. Marcel had only flown to Germany twice before, and both times he didn't get to stay long enough to really experience much. However, this time, he didn't have a flight back out until three days after this one landed, and it would be right at Oktoberfest, so everything was working out just dandy.

He checked in behind the counter just so that they registered him as having arrived, and made his way to security. Even though he was a flight attendant, it didn't mean that he was exempt from being checked—though it did mean sometimes that he got to go through the gate faster than passengers due to them needing him on the plane far beforehand to get ready and do a checkover before the passengers arrived. However, he had plenty of time, and was happy to wait as he went through. Luckily, at that early hour, there weren't many passengers yet though, and Marcel made it through relatively quickly.

He calmly made his way to the gate, looking around at the airport and its architecture. Marcel wasn't in America often, and this was the first time that he was in New York, so he took his leisurely time to admire the work of the airport. Even though it wasn't as pretty, in his opinion, as Charles de Gaulle airport, it still had its merits—though perhaps it was a tad bit too patriotic for Marcel's taste. But it was cleaner than many of the other airports he'd been in, and Marcel appreciated that greatly.

When he found gate C23, he smiled at the lady standing at the counter, who checked his papers and let him through to the plane. It wasn't winter yet, so the plane hadn't been delayed and had arrived here about an hour ago with plenty of time to spruce it up before it departed again for the long flight back to Munich.
Marcel walked into the plane and surveyed the damage. Usually the departing flight crew would clean up the plane, then leave, but this was mostly an all American crew, and lord knows how much they did in cleaning up sometimes. But Marcel knew that they had gotten in at two thirty in the morning, and the flight must have been exhausting, so he forgave them and understood perfectly why they had left the plane as such. After all, they did a little cleaning here and there, which would have been acceptable to many, but Marcel prided himself in doing his job well, and by Marcel's standards, there was still much to be done. It would be at least another half hour before anyone else arrived on the plane to assist him with the task, but he didn't mind. Stowing his bag way in the back where there was a designated overhead compartment for it, Marcel then rolled up his sleeves and set to work getting the plane sparkling clean.  

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

It was five minutes to six when Fin jerked awake in his seat. For a moment he blinked, trying to gain his bearings, but found that his mind quick to remember when catching a telltale glimpse out the large window. He was greeted by the huge steely wings of now familiar aircrafts. He might now know the names of the different models, but he could tell them apart to some extent, something that made him proud. To think there was a time when flying seemed like a vague and distant possibility...

Well, he would never say that flying was his favorite part of his job. Especially not this wait. With a small groan, Fin stretched, trying not to his the older woman next to him as he did so. Fantastic, now his neck was sore from sleeping at such an odd angle. Perhaps that was why most flights provided little pillows? He remembered that on his first flight he'd actually stolen one as a souvenir and proof that he had, in fact, taken the trip at all. Come to think of it, he'd never found out whether that was legal or not.

The thought was dismissed with a crackly, though not all together unpleasant, voice over the loud speaker, asking first class passengers to please begin boarding the plane. Though not traveling first class, Fin did rise from his seat, stretch once more (he never was going to get that crick out of his neck, was he?), and join a much larger line for those waiting to board what he would always think of as "normal people seating".

The line moved slowly but steadily, and after only a few minutes wait, and a quick examination of his passport, Fin found himself stepping onto the plane itself. He was greeted by typical airplane smell - that strange combination of enclosed space, far away places, and cleaning products. Finding his seat easily, Fin was a bit relieved to see that he was seated on the aisle and that the passengers for the middle and window seats were already in their designated seats. At least he wouldn't have to keep getting up to let them through, for at bare minimum a couple hours (hopefully). Sinking into the seat, Fin was once again reminded of how little leg room he was given, but merely sighed.

No, flying was definitely not his favorite part of traveling. Flipping through a few of the pamphlets attached to the back of the seat in front of him, Fin smirked to see that non-alcoholic beverages were free. Oh, he was going to take advantage of that. He made a mental note to ask the next flight attendant he saw for some orange juice as soon as they took off.  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

It was about forty minutes before any more of the flight crew arrive, and when they did, they thanked him for having started with the work that needed to be done on the plane. All of first and business class was clean and ready, and half of economy was done. However, with the extra help of the other three members of the attending crew, one which he had met before, and two which he had never laid eyes upon until this day, that quickly was finished with. As soon as the cabin was clean and ready, Marcel, along with the rest of the crew, started on the check overs of their stock and carts, just to make sure that everything was there and prepared for the flight ahead. As two of the crew was checking their food supply, and as one was making sure that the safety items were all there, such as flotation devices, oxygen masks, fire extinguishers, etc, Marcel took it upon himself to ensure that all six bathrooms aboard the plane were sparkling clean. Within an hour, the plane was ready for takeoff. Cleaned up and smiling, Marcel went to the back—for he wasn't on door duty—and checked his watch. 5:45. Just in time like he liked it.

Soon the door of the gate opened and people started boarding, which was probably one of Marcel's favorite parts of the flight. A fresh batch of people came in every single time, all with new faces, new experiences, and new personalities. It never ceased to amaze the Frenchman how big the world was, for he rarely ever saw a passenger again. Yet, it was always such a good experience meeting new passengers every single time. Sure, there were some that Marcel found not as nice as he would wish, but generally, everyone was pretty good to be around.
As passengers filled in, Marcel set to work, checking the monitor occasionally to see if anyone had pressed the attendant light. Seeing nothing, he then started walking down the isle, and made it to the middle before turning back so that he could let more passengers to their seats. Marcel brought drinks to various people who asked for it, and generally, with a bright and welcome smile, made sure that people felt as comfortable as possible for takeoff.

Within half an hour of the gate opening, the plane was ready for take off. With is sweet voice, Marcel went on the intercom and spoke the safety rules and guidelines as his fellow crew members down the aisle demonstrated his words. Yes, it was old fashioned compared to some of the other digital video systems that was aboard other planes, but Marcel felt that there was something more... caring about this. There was more interaction between the crew and the passengers. Even though the industry and the company was trying to decrease the amount of flight crew members needed, Marcel found that even the slightest and smallest things, such as this, made him feel warm and more.... more like he was doing his job like it should be done, rather than taking the easy way out.

When he was finished, he helped put the props away and then strapped himself in in the back, ready for takeoff. He liked sitting in the back, since there was the window of the huge emergency exit door next to him so the could look out the window as they took off, which was something that he loved to do. Marcel watched the ground run by backwards below him as the plane gathered speed, and eventually, watched the ground grow further and further away as they took to the sky. It always thrilled him to know that he was as close to flying as mankind had generally gotten with technology thus far. He was in the sky. As in, really there! It never ceased to amaze him every single time he took off.

When they were at cruising altitude, Marcel took off his belt and straightened his tie, ready to walk down the isle—not marry, of course, but smiling as if he were about to nevertheless. He walked down the isle until someone flagged him and asked him for a bottle of water, at which point he turned around and walked back to get it. However, on his way back, a man sitting in the very last row with startlingly light hair and skin stopped him with a light tap on his thigh.

"'Scuse me," the man said. Marcel stopped and flashed a bright smile at the man.
"Yes, sir, how can I help you?" he asked in return.  

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

While he might not openly admit it, flying was still rather exciting, even after having experienced so many flights before. That wasn't to say that the moment of lift off was quite so terrifying as it had been the first time when Fin had been completely convinced that he was about to fall to his death, but exciting none the less. The voice that came over the speakers with the announcements made him smile. The smile was a combination of the fact that their departure was now imminent and the fact that for a moment, he could not tell whether the voice was that of a particularly low-voiced female or of a light man's. By the time they had taken off, the smile had not faded. They were in the air! Although, if he thought too much about what was keeping them up (i.e. NOTHING) he would get nervous again, and thus Fin kept his mind to other prospects.

Like the fact that he could really use one of those free drinks they advertised. Seeing a flight attendant walking back towards him, Fin raised a hand to tap the man lightly on the thigh.
"Scuse me," Being seated next to the standing man ensured that Fin was more or less on eye level with the man's crotch. He raised an eyebrow appraisingly. Not too bad from what he could tell... although who could pass a good judgment when the man was wearing pants like THOSE... Fin almost shook his head in disapproval. Glancing up, he was nearly blinded by the man's smile. Jesus Christ, did the kid have some kind of light bulb in his mouth? He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so cheery. At least, never a flight attendant who was.
"Yes, sir, how can I help you?" Fin resisted the urge to say that he could help by sitting on his lap and pouring him a martini. This was a business trip after all, and essentially, they were in a business situation.
"This," Fin flapped the the pamphlet to demonstrate his meaning. "Says you've got free drinks? Could I snag an orange juice from you, if you have it?"  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

"This says you've got free drinks? Could I snag an orange juice from you, if you have it?"

Marcel's bright smile faded a little, not into a sort of sadness, but more into a sort of surprise. The man before him, now that he actually could get a good look at his face, was actually quite good looking. Probably not by average model standards, but by Marcel's own unique taste and viewpoint, Fin was actually quite handsome. It was a good sign of any flight if the passenger closest to where he stood the most was one that appeared so well. Not to mention that the American did have this way of speaking that Marcel found highly interesting, if not amusing. "To snag" really wasn't something he'd use to ask for orange juice, but hey, to each his own.

Nodding, Marcel flashed a much less bright customer service-y smile and more of his regular Marcel happy smile at Fin. "Yes they are indeed free, and I will be right back with it, monsie—sir." Marcel blushed a little, embarrassed that he had gone into French for a moment because it was so natural. Rarely did he fly flights that wasn't form France to somewhere else, and from that somewhere else to France, so he wasn't used to the fact that most likely none of his passengers spoke the language. Of course "monsieur" was a universally understood term, but it would be odd to utter it on a flight from English speaking America to German speaking Germany.

The Frenchman ducked his head a little to hide his blush and proceeded a short ways to the back, past the bathrooms, in order to retrieve the bottle of water and the cup of orange juice. Faster than most flight attendants, who preferred to stand around for a bit and chat with their co-workers, Marcel was ready with the drinks. He proceeded past Fin first, however, to the woman who had asked for the bottle, since she had asked first, after all, and gave it to her with a bright welcoming smile. Then he turned around and walked back to where Fin was.

"Here you go, sir," Marcel spoke as he handed Fin a glass of orange juice and a napkin with a soft yet energetic smile, more akin to his regular smile than his bright attendant smile. It felt a lot more natural to the young man, but the other smile felt natural too when he was actually working. But for some reason, this American in front of him managed to soften him up a little and get inside to his deeper self—not that Marcel really kept much hidden in the first place. At least not intentionally. Although he was an outgoing person, he felt that his regular smile felt a bit too personal for passengers, and would probably bring them discomfort. He really didn't care, but he cared about his passengers, and would never wish that. So after a while, it just sort of became a habit that he had different sets of interactions and behaviors for himself naturally, and for his job.

"Care for some ice?" Marcel asked with his subtle French accent, indicating the small bucket of ice he held beside him. It was custom to put the ice in the cup, but Marcel himself hated the taste of orange juice after it was diluted with water, and wanted to give his passengers the choice of such or not. Yes, it was rarely done, and usually ice went without saying, but if Marcel disliked it, then who was to say that others wouldn't dislike it as well? The best way to be a flight attendant was to always think about the customer, and not about what protocol and convention says should be done.  

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

Fin noticed the changed in the man’s smile, though he did not think on it beyond a subtle hope that he had not somehow managed to offend the fight attendant with his request. He didn’t hink orange juice could be offensive…

“Yes they are indeed free, and I will be right back with it, monsie—sir." Oh, so he was French! Perhaps orange juice was offensive in France? Fin had never spent extensive time in the country, a day or two at most when flights had been reschedueled, and so wouldn’t know. He’d had mixed experiences with the country, and had, in fact, managed to offend quite a number of people with his attrocious French. With his knowledge of Spanish, Fin had gone into the country armed only with this, and was sadly mistaken. Although he had learned a few delectable terms while he was there… Namely a few swears and few obscene bed-phrases. Ah, pleasant memories.

The attendant departed, leaving Fin to riffle through his carry on in search of a pair of headphones. The in-flight movie was due to start soon, and while he could afford it, Fin didn’t really want to cough up the money to buy headphones from the airline. They were a rather old pair, admittedly, with nearly ten years of wear and tear on them. He was honestly amazed that he hadn’t lost them yet. Then again, as huge and cumbersome as they were, it really should come as no surprise.

He’d just finished untangling the headphones from themselves (really, why did headphones ALWAYS seem ot get tangled no matter how you wrapped them?) when the attendant returned. Taking the time to look up at his face, Fin was reminded of the fact that they actually appeared to be about the same age. This was a bit disturbing since Fin had always thought of male flight attendants as being rather old, which meant that either this one was very young, or Fin himself was getting very old.

Fin took the offered glance with a small smile of his own. It may not have been the 1,000 watt one the attendant was capable of, a sort of sideways smirk, but it was genuine none the less.

“Ice… hm, I dunno. Ice always makes it so… water…y.” Fin searched for a moment trying to find the right word to describe the disgusting flavor of watered down orange juice. It was like watering down wine – fine for children, but still kind of gross as an adult. Fin took a quick sip of the beverage. “Nah, it’s cold enough as is. Thanks though.”  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

"Ice… hm, I dunno. Ice always makes it so… water… y. Nah, it’s cold enough as is. Thanks though."

Marcel nodded in obvious agreement. It was nice to meet a kindred orange juice soul. People always often either panicked at being asked and wouldn’t think about it, so they’d rush it and blurt out either a yes or a no, even if it wasn’t really what they wanted, or, to just be polite, they would accept, just because Marcel had gone through the trouble of asking. However, Marcel liked Fin, if only because Fin had a level head, had a clear opinion, and wasn’t afraid to voice it, even if it was only about the dilution of orange juice.

”You’re welcome,” Marcel replied, smiling a very genuine and happy smile. ”If there’s anything else you need, just press the attendant button.” With that, the Frenchman departed to the back to put the bucket away, glad that the people he had met thus far were so nice. He then turned and picked up the phone like device that was actually the intercom and spoke, his voice betraying his happy smile, ”Ladies and gentlemen, the in flight movie is about to start. For details on the movie, please see the flight magazine in the seat pocket in front of you. We do have headphones available for purchase for only two dollars, if you should need them. A flight attendant will be coming through with them shortly.” And right on cue, Marcel’s co-worker picked up the woven basket of headphones and started her trip down the aisle.

About an hour and a half later, it was time for lunch. Marcel had been periodically making trips up and down the aisle to make sure that the passengers were comfortable and happy, and now promptly returned to the back to prepare the cart. Luckily, his organisation from before had made it so that it could be prepared relatively quickly and efficiently. He put the main courses in the microwave and zapped them to ensure that they were hot, then pushed the cart halfway down the aisle to begin serving. The attendants at the other end would take care of the rest of the rows.
Marcel served everyone with a smile, making small jokes here and there along the way to lighten moods and generally be amicable toward passengers. He knew not to go over the top, much like he had done so in his younger days, and knew just how much he should say and when. No one seemed to mind—if anything, they enjoyed it.

When Marcel reached Fin’s chair in the back, being the last one to get served, he smiled once again at the man and asked, “Would you like beef stroganoff or vegetarian pasta?” He knew that it was quite an ambiguous question, and so he showed Fin exactly what he was talking about. When he traveled as a passenger, Fin had always disliked the fact that when they asked what you wanted to eat, you really had no bearing on how it looked or really what it involved. Drawing from that, he tried to keep his passengers in the know, and many of them appreciated the gesture.
The beef was basically some pieces of thin beef on top of mashed potatoes, all within some type of dark brown sauce. There were carrots, peas, and corn sitting on the side as well. The vegetarian option contained long spaghetti with a tomato sauce that looked like there was some zucchini, squash, tomatoes, and leeks, along with other unidentifiable vegetables in there as well.
Marcel held the two dishes there as he waited for a decision, feeling and looking not at all impatient, so that he wouldn’t rush decisions. However, he felt that the man before him would take his time and make a decision that he felt sure of, rather than other people who were too pressured by time and picked whichever one popped into their head first.  

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

The movie was typical for in-flight movies. Dull, but just engaging enough to keep your eyes glued to the screen. Mind numbing. Fin watched the drama between the attractive woman and the slightly less attractive man on the screen unfold. Why was it that the women in movies were always slightly more attractive than their male counterparts? He briefly entertained the idea of writing to the film industry to bring this to their attention, but he soon began to fear that his suggestion would only bring about another Twilight-esque movie in which the male lead looked like he hadn’t washed his hair in three weeks and was wearing gratuitous amounts of lipstick. Really, how was anyone supposed to find THAT attractive?

When the Frenchman returned later during the movie, Fin easily slipped his headphones off his ears and around his neck. The film was so predictable that he was hardly missing anything. He glanced between the attendant and the proffered meals. Listening to him briefly go over the choices, Fin couldn’t help but wonder how he had missed the man’s soft accent before. True, it wasn’t blatantly obvious, and he hadn’t spoken much, but it was still there. Perhaps he was just fond of languages, but Fin enjoyed hearing such everyday words spoken in such a soft, slightly foreign voice.
“Beef looks fine… You ever tried it?” It was something he’d actually wondered about. Flight attendants were on the plane for just as long, if not longer than, the passengers. They were human, and therefore must need sustenance as well. But would they stoop to measly airplane food, or were there secretly steaks hidden in the ever mysterious crew-only zones? He was always like this with others, never really bothering to change up his demeanor, no matter who he was speaking to. He knew that certain professionals did not always take kindly to his casual manner, and was glad to see that, even after the French Orange Juice Offense, the attendant did not yet appeared to be upset with him. Then again, weren’t flight attendants paid by how cheery they were, or something? It seemed like part of the job description.  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

"Beef looks fine... You ever tried it?"

Marcel smiled at Fin, who didn't seem all too eager about either meal, to be honest. However, breakfast was an important meal, and Fin didn't strike Marcel as a person who would bypass a food opportunity. Marcel shook his head slightly, smile beaming ever brightly. "Non—I mean, no, I haven't." He silently chided himself for the French once again. It wasn't rare to see flight attendants who spoke languages other than the two expected due to the flight departure and arrival locations, but it was much more rare to see one who would slip into that other tongue from time to time. Although Marcel had been a flight attendant for a while, as mentioned before, it was usually on flights between France and some other locale, and so French was always expected. However, filling in for this trip for Monarque Air wasn't something that Marcel did often, and so it threw him off a little—but at least he was getting better at it, one baby step at a time.

"However, I am sure that the beef is probably better than the pasta. That's usually how it is in my flying experience, at least. How about you try it and tell me how it is before I pick my own breakfast?" Marcel suggested with a slightly playful smile, hoping that he wasn't overstepping his bounds. He just couldn't help how open Fin made him feel. They clicked immediately, or at least it seemed so to Marcel, and he hoped that he wasn't wrong. Fin was either a naturally friendly person, who induced the same in others, or it was that Fin was having this effect just on Marcel. Well, the passenger's reaction would tell Marcel for sure if he had done something wrong—and he hoped he didn't, for this passenger was the best that he had encountered on this flight so far, and it would be a shame to ruin the developing encounter. Plus, the guy was at the back of the plane, closest to where Fin and one other attendant was, and that meant that he held the power to making Marcel's life miserable if he was inclined toward such. However, Fin didn't strike Marcel as the type for that either.

 

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

“How about you try it and tell me how it is before I pick my own breakfast?” God, the more the man spoke, the more Fin was begnning to think that he was devoloping a fetish for foreign languages and/or accents. Was it wrong to want to keep him talking just to hear his voice? Perhaps, but there were worse sins in the world. At least he hadn’t tried to flirt with the poor man. Although, and perhaps it was just Fin himself, but the flight attendant made his gaydar go off. Then again, the “device” had been known to be unreliable at best.

With little hesitation, Fin nodded and peeled off the plastic cover of his pre-prepared meal. A small bit of steam rose to meet him, along with something that smelled as though it was trying very very hard to be beef and not quite succeeding. Fin dug his fork into the meat and took a quick bite out of it. He chewed slowly, thinking on it, not wanting to mislead the man, who looked…Well, innocent would be a kind word for it, though gullible seemed more accurate. Both were surprisingly endearing. After a moments consideration, Fin gave his verdict.

"For airplane food, it’s not bad. Not bad at all. I’ve eaten worse in restaurants.” Fin said with mild appraisal, licking his lips and reaching for the miniature water bottle included with the meal. “Though I’m glad it’s free with international flights…” He added. It was not something he’d pay for himself in a restaurant, and Fin was never one to lie about such trivial things. While to other it might make more sense to tell the truth about large matters and save lies for very small ones, Fin was quite the opposite. If you were going to lie, it had better be for a good reason, and
was not to be used on something as unimportant in life as the quality of airplane food.  

[Lady Sherlock]

Ⓛive every day of your life...

Ⓐs if it were your last~

"For airplane food, it’s not bad. Not bad at all. I’ve eaten worse in restaurants... Though I'm glad it's free with international flights..."

Marcel agreed greatly with the comment. Airplane food was never great, and being a Frenchman meant that Marcel could appreciate food when it was good. He knew fine cuisine the way other people knew their multiplication tables. He loved all sorts of food, but he had to admit that airplane food wasn't on the top of his fine dining list. Being a flight attendant for Monarque Air and all meant that every meal was free, though albeit continually interrupted by someone needing something else or other; however, aside from that, it was almost as if he was being paid to eat, which was a great deal indeed. Marcel knew that he was a lucky flight attendant for his job, since most other flight attendants had to either pay for a meal plan on the flight, or pack their own meals and use the airplane microwave to heat it up. Marcel could cook his own food for the flights if he wanted, but why would he refuse free food? That was why he loved working for this French airline.

Once again happy about yet another kindred spirit idea between the two of them, Marcel was practically beaming down at the man, forgetting a little his professionalism. No passenger had really made this natural amount of conversation with him before, and it just felt nice. Nodding his agreement at the comment Fin made, Marcel uttered in concurrence, "I don’t think I’d ever pay for airplane food myself. It's not fine dining, that's for sure.” Marcel winked at Fin, chuckling sweetly. "Though don't tell anyone else I said that, or Monarque Air might not like me too much." Of course, Marcel was joking about it all, and knew that Monarque Air was an open airline, and he was definitely thankful enough to have the food that he was provided for free. In fact, he often sent in bi-monthly-ish thank you notes to the corporation for various pluses that he managed to find as he went about his work. He liked to show appreciation and thanks where appreciation and thanks were due.

"However, if you want to solve all the troubles, just do it the way I often do. I cook most of my food myself." Just thinking about his own heavily French influenced cooking made him yearn for something other than imitation beef stroganoff. But alas, that was all that would be, and Marcel was never one to complain. There were indeed, people starving in... well, everywhere! And he wasn't going to be one of them! For that, Marcel was very thankful indeed.  

[After Midnight Blue]

Ⓣhere's only us
XXXXXXXXⓉhere's only this

Ⓕorget regretXXXXXXXX
Ⓞr life is yours to miss

“I don’t think I’d ever pay for airplane food myself.” The comment came as a slight surprise to Fin. It shocked a small chuckle from him. Spoken in such a seemingly sweet voice, the statement was both out of ironic enough to deploy humor, and yet so commonplace and relatable that it seemed almost self-contradictory to say. An airplane flight attendant complaining about airplane food. The chuckle died quickly, not wanting to drown out the Frechman’s soft voice.
“I cook most of my food myself.” Somehow, this did not all together surprise Fin. Though microwaving a meal hardly counted as cooking, having the man near him during the meal, automatically connected him to food in Fin’s mind.
“Not me! Closest I get to homemade are pancakes sometimes.” Fin admitted, unashamed. There was no shame in a bachelor not knowing how to cook… All right, perhaps that was an old fashioned way to think, but it wasn’t as if people made the extra effort to teach their boys to cook these days. As a child, when Fin’s mother had worked late, she’d always left something microwavable to have for dinner somewhere he could find it. To him, heating up some store-bought chicken nougats WAS cooking. So perhaps the association with the flight attendant and cooking was not so far fetched after all.
“What do you cook? You sound French to me.” As soon as he said the last bit, Fin regretted it. He had gotten in trouble before, assuming that Belgians and people from the other countries bordering France were French when they were “clearly” from Belgium/Holland/Monaco/ etc. He hoped that hadn’t been pushing his luck with the assumption. Perhaps it was these assumptions that marked Fin as truly American…