April's phone buzzed in her bag, but she did not hear it. The sound was lost as the doors to the Laguardia Airport opened to the cacophony of New York City. Shouldering her duffle, she made her way through the sea of people and suitcases to the swarm of cabs crowding the curbside. As she approached the curb and the closest cab, another taxi cut sharply in front of it. The back door swung open, and April shifted her luggage against her hip as she bent into the cab. It wouldn't be an NYC taxi if the driver wasn't willing to mow another cab down for a fare. April smiled despite herself. It was good to be home.
She slid in the backseat, her duffle catching on a rip in the old leather.
"Where to?" the cab driver asked with a thick accent. She could not see what he looked like through the veil of cigarette smoke curling up around his face.
April blinked. She hadn't even thought about it. Someone else was living in their old apartment, and she hadn't told her father she was coming home. And Donatello wasn't picking up the phone.
"Ms. O'Neil?" The cab driver asked.
In the back seat of the smoke filled cab, April O'Neil's eyes widened as she realized -
She hadn't told the cab driver her name.
A/N: Auuuuugghgggh sorry it's been so long. We're nearly there! I really struggled with the moment between Don and Mike in the last chapter, but held on because I felt like it needed to work. And hopefully it does. Thanks for sticking around, I know it's been awhile. I promise I haven't abandoned PFT, I'm just still working a few kinks out 3