Chapter I: A Swift Exit, Part II
"Airport security," Bigby Wolf mumbles, looking around the airport at the various blue-clothed members of staff. "And I thought I was hated."
"These guys take it to a whole other level," the Woodsman agrees, slightly kicking the his bag whilst trying not to draw attention to himself.
From Bigby's eyes, he's doing an absolutely terrible job. "You know, being a mundie at the airport means being either stressed or happy, and you look like you're about to have a mental breakdown because your wife left you and you need to get her back."
"What?" the Woodsman raises his eyebrow. "I'm not doin' anything."
How did I get stuck with these two morons? the Sheriff rubs his forehead at the stupidity.
"Exactly."
Anyway, with all the distractions, the Sheriff didn't notice that the terminal had now opened and jubilant passengers were now cramping through the narrow gates to board the aircraft. The Wolf guesses that mundies are usually quite excited to go on airplanes, for some odd reason.
"Let's go, before any of these *ssholes decide it's time for a little chat," Bigby commands, pushing the Woodsman forward with his hand. "Just let me do the talking alright, I'm guessing that the only mundie women you've spoken to are prostitutes."
Bigby hears a quiet chuckle from inside of the Woodsman's hand luggage, and he himself gives a good kick. "Shut it, Colin."
Approaching the final obstacle to their much-needed vacation, Bigby notices the woman giving them a good looking over, eyes narrowing. But, deciding that nothing is going to stop him now, and certainly not a mundie, he powers on anyway, halting right infront of the woman.
Susan, as the name tag on her chest suggests.
"Hi Susan," the Sheriff smiles, though he notices the slight surprise on her face.
"Oh, thought by the looks of you that the two of you were tourists," she responds, a forced smile on her face too.
Perhaps the mundies aren't too different from Fables after all, since they both seem to share the ability to pretend to be nice to people you barely like.
"No, we are going on a business trip," Bigby says, passing over the tickets so the woman can have a check over them.
"Brilliant," Susan beams, passing the pieces of paper back, "Enjoy Cairo."
"Thanks," he gladly takes the documents, enjoying the prospect of not talking to the mundie for any longer than he needs to.
As they pass on by, he swears that he noticed her shake her head in confusion after they had left. Odd, but then again, he's noticed that the vast majority of the non-Fable population tend to be very weird, even by the standards of a former mass murderer turned law-enforcing Sheriff of a community of myths and legends.
"That was easy," Woody comments, pulling in the Colin-holding bag a little bit closer to himself. "Thought that we'd be talked to a lot more."
"She's a mundie, Woody, she probably barely even likes her job. And you, either."
"Guess you have that in common," the Woodsman retorts, giving the Sheriff a content tap on the shoulder as they board the plane.
It took them a while to find their seats, in between shutting up Colin as he attempts to give them directions to the best seats on the plane, and not having a single clue how the seating arrangements on planes work. The mundie alphabet becomes a lot more difficult when weaving between crying children and elderly passengers taking an eternity to place their bags above them.
After throwing Colin into the above compartment, both the Woodsman and the Sheriff slump into their seats, feeling a little bit embarrassed and anxious at the same time.
Still, they've made it. Time for them to have a little bit of fun.
Bigby has never come to this section of what the mundies call 'America' before, but Colin says it has good reviews, and is warm. So, guess he'll have to trust him in that regard.
"Cairo here we come."