Day Three, Thursday, Heathrow Airport, London, England.
Doyle awoke with a loud snort as Cordelia elbowed him sharply in the gut. Wearily, he rubbed his face and looked around the now deserted plane.
"Where is everybody?" He asked.
Cordelia rolled her eyes and got out of her seat to retrieve her hand luggage from the overhead storage unit. "They all got off." She explained tersely.
"Everyone?" Doyle asked with a glance to the seats behind him.
"Everyone." Cordelia confirmed.
Doyle grinned. "Y'know princess, I slept like a log. I don't even remember takin' off." He said, clambering out of his seat and into the aisle where he stretched.
"We'd better go." Cordelia suggested with a glance up the aisle to where an impatient stewardess was glaring at her watch. "We've still got to pick Angel up, get a taxi to the train station and then we've got two train changes before we even get close to St. Treharne."
Doyle nodded and headed up the aisle towards the exit. The stewardess bared her teeth at them in something that vaguely resembled a smile as they drew closer to her.
Suddenly, the door to the toilet flew open and Cordelia, recognizing the couple who tumbled out of the tiny compartment, quickly ducked behind Doyle.
Giggling, Xander and Anya straightened and looked around them. Catching sight of Doyle, their giggling turned into full-blown hysterics as they walked through the gateway and out into the airport.
Doyle checked his appearance. "Huh?" He asked, dumbfounded.