With his nails already digging into the plush of his seat and his brown eyes wide open, you couldn't really say Vuk was ready for the plane to leave the ground. First flight or not, he won't let panic take the command in his brain. He couldn't!
Except it already did. He tried to think of his destination, the "Big Apple", of how this could turn from a simple trip into the path his future was shaped; hell, he even thought of those noisy Americans, anything that could distract him. It was useless.
"You look pretty stiff there, sir," a firm yet youthful voice cut his thoughts short.
"Ehhh?" Vuk mentally face-palmed for his strained, no, rather mentally retarded answer. He quickly took in the appearance of this seemingly flight attendant: blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses and a quite well-built. Vuk didn't exactly comprehend the way his hair worked, but he didn't took an interest in it either.
The steward chuckled "First flight?"
"Y-yeah–"
"–and already venturing to New York? We're dreaming big, aren't we, sir?"
Vuk shot him a weak glance, the plane didn't even leave yet he was already getting nauseated:
"Got a problem with it?"
"Wha-not at all! I just happen to live there."
"Congratulations, then."
Nevermind his sassy comebacks, Alfred knew the guy didn't feel well:
"I'll go get you some water, sir," he prompted as he quickly departed.
"No thank you" but Alfred was already out of earshot.
The dutifully steward came back in almost no time, handling him a bottle:
"Here."
Vuk didn't reply, instead snatching the bottle and drinking from it anxiously:
"Hm, thank you."
"Don't mention it. Look, you're going to be ok, i promise."
The other waved him off dismissively "Whatever. Go nag someone else too."
Alfred let out a laugh:
"Can i at least have your name?"
"Vuk Mišić."
"Will i better remember it?"
"Do whatever floats your boat."
"I'm Alfred F. Jones."
"Yeah, all right, all right."
No matter Alfred's good intentions, a chatty guy in his early '20 was the last thing he needed now that the plane was going to take its leave in minutes.
"S-say, you're a trusting company, a-aren't you?"
Alfred put on a confident smile and tapped his shoulder "The best company to ever exist, Mr Mišić."
"Of course…," Vuk muttered sarcastically "…my funeral will have freshly-baked cakes.."
"Oh come on now, stop being so drama–"
"Alfie, over there!" a very impatient-sounding voice interrupted him.
Sighing slightly amused, shaking his head, Alfred shouted back a "coming!" before locking glances with Vuk again:
"I'll be haunting around your seat, so call me out if something's wrong, okay? See ya!
And thus, with a final big smile and a wave, Alfred left. Neverthless, he continued to occupy Vuk's mind for the rest of the flight.