"I'm already proud of you," he said as he leant down and kissed her forehead. "It's time for everyone else to see why."
She clicks in the belt around her, allowing herself one deep breath as she settles in for the long flight to Latveria. A man holding a steel satchel comes to stand beside her. He looks down at her over his dark sunglasses.
"I believe that's my seat, Ma'am," he indicates the seat next to the window she's claimed.
She bites her lip, clutching the camera she holds in her hand tightly.
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I just got excited. It's my first time visiting a foreign country and I wanted to see- You know what, never mind. I'm sorry." She holds up her hand, fumbling slightly as she tries to awkwardly hold the camera and unbuckle simultaneously. He chuckles as he shakes his head.
"Don't worry about it. I like the aisle more anyway," he brushes off her attempts to trade places with him.
"Oh. Thank you," she breathes gratefully, adjusting her glasses as she settles in her seat again.
"'sides," he continues, settling in comfortably as he stores his satchel underneath his seat securely, "I like the aisle- makes it easier to move about," he assures her.
She looks over at him again, smiling in thanks. He'd stored a second carry-on overhead, his black leather jacket fitting snuggly across his broad shoulders. His sandy-blonde hair brushes in front of sea-blue eyes that carry an amused warmth in them, most likely due to the friendly smile that crinkles them.
"Well, thank you again," she insists.
"Ma'am, I travel often enough to know the value of courtesy toward seat-neighbours on long international flights," he reassures her once more.
"Ma'am," she huffs quietly, caught between charmed and slightly annoyed. "Makes me feel like I'm 60 years old." She holds out her hand, realises she's still holding her camera, switches it, then holds out her hand once more. "Natalie Rushman," she offers.
He smirks at her, offering his own hand in kind.
"Francis Ronin," he answers.
"So, Mr. Ronin. What takes you to Latveria?"
"I'm a courier."
"What are you transporting?" she asks excitedly.
He puts a finger to his lips.
"Top secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
She chuckles.
"Well, you would try," she teases.
"Oh, I don't know," he chuckles, "I'm pretty good at hitting my target. So, what about you? First time in a foreign country; why Latveria?"
She flips her long red hair back, a light coming into her eyes as she leans toward him, just as the flight attendant announces the doors are closed and the plane starts taxiing. She adjusts her glasses once more, lifting her head toward the front of the plane.
After she's listened attentively to the safety announcements, much to her seat-neighbour's amusement, she turns her attention back to him.
"I knew I wanted to visit somewhere in Eastern Europe, and when I saw photos of the castle in Doomstadt surrounded by all those beautiful, quaint houses, I looked for hotels in my price range and booked my flight. I just got a new promotion, and this is my own little celebration."
"Congratulations," he offered. "Promotion to what?"
"I'm a computer analyst. Before, the company I now work for as a Senior Executive tended to promote nearly exclusively men, and the new CEO wants to modernise the workforce a bit. I was one of the first female promotions he encouraged."
Francis nodded his head sceptically.
"Sounds like a great company to work for."
"It actually is. They want to change the world. The others have all been completely supportive and stood against the former CEO when they noticed the pattern. We have this really loudmouth consultant who pointed it out and then those who hadn't noticed before finally did. Our new CEO was the one who hired the consultant to evaluate and make sure that everyone who deserved a promotion was in a position to get one."
"Well, I guess it is better to get support later than never at all."
She nodded absently.
"Besides, my best friend in the world has fought his entire career to ensure me and a few other women get our fair shots. He's actually the one who trained me, when I got hired on."
He nods, then indicates her camera.
"So, what else were you planning to see?"
They talk for the entire 12-hour long flight, laughing and connecting in a way that she hadn't connected with anyone since…
She learned that he loved old films and dogs. He didn't really have a family anymore, but he wished for one, someday. Something to break the pattern his father and brother had created. She shared her love of all things comic book and cats, and how she had had that picket fence dream once as well, but it didn't work out. She ended up telling him quite a few small, unimportant bits about herself she hadn't discussed with anyone in years, in fact.
She also realised he was kind and sensitive and caring as he helped an older gentleman to the lavatory, and that he had a desperate desire to do the right thing. She was almost sad when they landed, knowing she would never call the phone number he had offered when they mutually decided they should keep in touch.
She's just a few people behind him as they go through customs, smiling as she hears him whistle the tune to the Andy Griffith Show absentmindedly, breezing through customs as though it's second nature to him, which she supposes, it is.
So focused is she on maintaining the last fleeting moments she'd have in his presence that she only is only barely focusing on the customs agent, who is staring at her paperwork with a frown, looking up at her with a glare that spelled nothing good.
"You're here on a tourist visa, only for a week?" he positions suspiciously.
She turns a confused expression on him, wondering what about that statement had him subtly beckoning the security guards, who were all slowly closing in on her.
"I… wanted to see the Doomstadt Castle, and the Silver Gates of Norrin," she tries to explain, holding up her camera helplessly and pushing her glasses up her nose nervously.
There is nothing subtle about the guard who grabs her arm, leading her roughly through the gates toward a long, seemingly endless corridor.
Before they make it all the way there, however, Francis steps up to the guards, calling out to her.
"Wait, what's going on? Where are you taking her?" he demands.
"Out of the way," another guard tells him, using the butt of his rifle to shove him aside.
"Please," she asks, her voice trembling slightly as she looks around her, "I'd just like to know what's happening."
"You're getting your wish, Miss Rushman," the guard pulling her along answers snidely. "Going to see Doomstadt Castle. President Doom has specific instructions about meeting any Avenger who comes to try to kill him."