The flight to Las Vegas was a very intriguing one for Friday Lawrence, who was presently sitting between Detective Ackerly-Tate as he played a game on his cell, and another man she had never before met, who was giving her very disturbing looks. She tried to ignore both the music from the Detective's game and her other neighbor's eyes by playing with more Letters to Mumsey... but then the stranger spoke.
"I like feet," he said with a sly grin. For a moment, Friday didn't know what to say -- a scream would have done that proclamation justice, but she really didn't want to disturb the other passengers. "Um," she finally said, trying not to sound openly horrified. "Feet, eh?" The Man nodded. "How lovely."
Friday turned quickly to Detective Ackerly-Tate, who was still trying to beat his little cell phone game... and was looking rather put-out that he couldn't master it. Both hands were firmly clamped on the crome device, his gaze focused on the tiny, color screen.
"Detective?" Friday whispered, poking his shoulder.
"Not now, Miss Lawrence," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'm on the last level, and I'll be damned if I let it trump me again!"
Friday thought that her problem was a bit more urget, so she continued to poke her boss and whisper to him about the foot-loving man next to her. He was paying her absolutely no attention, but she was very -- and understandably -- determined to switch seats with Detective Ackerly-Tate.
"We're almost in Nevada, dear, so please stop bothering me..."
"No, Detective, you really don't understand ---"
A rather ominous noise came from the cell phone, and Detective Ackerly-Tate slowly turned to look at his secretary.
"You know," he said, trying very hard to sound very indifferent. "Sometimes I regret that I didn't hire that Pierce fellow who came in for an interview just before you did."
Friday rolled her eyes, and carefully explained her situation with the foot-man. "Would you please, please trade seats with me, Detective? I'll do anything you want when we get to Vegas -- I'll buy you a kitten!"
He agreed, very reluctantly, and took his seat next to the foot-man, who immediately shut up and didn't say another word for the rest of the flight. Brewster decided to try yet again at his cell phone, but before he started the game, he leaned over and whispered something very ominous into Friday's ear:
"I'm holding you to that promise, Miss Lawrence."
The next morning, Friday and Detective Ackerly-Tate were breakfasting in a Las Vegas café, both looking very out of place against the "natives" as the Detective called them. He had been explaining to her that whole morning that the natives of Nevada were a simple people -- consumed by things that Englanders didn't really think of. Friday did, of course, try to shut him up... But Detecive Ackerly-Tate could never stop talking when he thought he was educating someone.
Heavens, Friday thought to herself, staring blankly at a pastry the Detective had shoved in front of her -- it was currently fulfilling the role of England, to demonstrate the distance between America and their own Brittania. This is getting to be a P.G. Wodehouse novel... Unfortunately, I think I'm Jeeves.
This little geography lesson was finally cut short by Friday's realization that it was time to inquire after the nurses at the Desert Springs Hospital, so they finished their breakfast and left very quickly, completely silent until they reached their destination.