"Lewis, we'll be late for our flight!"
"Coming, Cleo! I just need to get these last few things…"
. . .
"Boarding Flight 62442 to New Orleans, Louisiana," called a cool, overhead, female voice in the airport.
Cleo and Lewis quickly handed their tickets to the attendant and boarded the plane.
. . .
They held hands in their seats. The couple was still very much in love, just as they had been when they began seeing each other in school. Not to mention that they've been best friends since they were five years old.
Yes, very much in love.
Lewis brought her hand up and kisses her knuckles just above her wedding band. She smiled.
. . .
A cab driver helped them get all of their bags into the boot of the taxi.
"Jesus Christ, what d'you have in here, rocks?!" the cabbie asked, grunting from the weight.
"No, just a telescope, microscope, and a bunsen burner and an…" answered Lewis with an excited smile before Cleo elbowed him just hard enough in the ribs. The cabbie looks dumbfounded. Cleo tries not to smile.
They all get into the cab.
"Can you take us to…." he squinted at the paper in his hand, "The French Quarter Suites Hotel, please?" Lewis asked the cabbie.
. . .
"I am so tired!" exclaimed Cleo, collapsing onto their hotel bed. "Me too," said Lewis, while flopping onto the bed just behind her. He circled an arm around her waist.
"We'll start our search tomorrow. There's a local scientist who studies human anomalies. He's not respected very much in the science community, but he might know something," said Lewis to his love.
"I can't wait.." Cleo was too tired to say much else. They drifted off.
. . .
The couple have been travelling all over the world in search of other 'supernatural' people such as herself. They figured, if mermaids existed, why can't something else magical exist? They've already been to visit the big-shot scientists of different fields in all the big science hubs across the world.
Not that they've found anything. The scientists either always thought they were mad or they didn't know anything of value to them. Some of them were really rude. There was one memorable visit with a scientist in Japan that refused to talk to her, despite her rather impressive chemistry and biology degrees. Lewis had to be the one to speak with him. It still fills her up with anger every time she thinks of it.
Now, they're trying the States.
They decided to start in New Orleans. The city had an impressive and suspicious reputation of witches and the undead, after all. They thought it would be a good start. But the problem was, they didn't really know what they were looking for.
. . .
"I could just scream, Rikki! Nobody know anything here either," Cleo exclaimed through her phone to one of her best friends.
"Relax, Cleo. Maybe we are the only magical-type people."
"I doubt it. I'm just tired, I thought we might be able to accomplish something with this damned trip - I refuse to believe that mermaids are alone! And I miss all of you back home, this trip wasn't supposed to take so long."
"Who knows, Cleo, maybe tomorrow you and Nerdy McNerd will find something," Rikki said in a teasing voice.
"Don't call him that!" Cleo laughs. "Probably not, Lewis is taking me on a sort of fun day. I'm kind of excited actually, we haven't had a proper date in a really long time."
"So, how is everyone?" Cleo asks. Rikki gives her a quick reply about everyone important. Kim just got her degree, Mr Sertori has a new fishing boat - fishing game is good, the cafe is doing really well, Zane finally moved on so that they can work together, Bella and the Band have been getting bigger gigs, and when Bella's not singing she's either swimming with Will or herself.
"Have you met anyone?" Cleo asks her friend.
"Not really, I went out on a blind date the other night, thanks to Bell may I add, and he was a total prat." Rikki replies with a scathing tone.
"Oh, too bad," sighed Cleo.
"Hey, Cleo, I've got to run, it's the mid-day rush!"
"My god, I'll never get used to the time difference. It's getting pretty dark over here! Have a good night - day, whatever!" Cleo laughs.
. . .