"May I have your passport and flight information, please" The bubbly attendant said from behind the chest high counter.
The man who called himself Tobias Neal reached into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a handful of information.
"Thank you, Mr...Neal." The attendant said as she scanned and separated the material into three piles. She continued to look over several of the papers as she entered various snippets of information into her computer. When she was finally finished, the attendant stapled two of the three papers together and handed them make to the man who called himself Mr. Neal, who then neatly folded them and put them back into his coat.
"Excuse me Mr. Neal," the attendant said, as she looked over the third pile of papers. "It says that you have something held in cargo?"
The man nodded his head.
"Do you have the yellow slip that should have been given to you when you checked your cargo in?" She asked.
"Oh," The man said, plunging his hand into his pants pocket. "I'm sorry, I forget. It's ...uh...here you go. Sorry, I'm just a little preoccupied."
The attendant nodded politely, as if she understood, which she didn't. That is, until she looked at what the man's cargo was.
"Oh," She said, looking Mr. Neal in the eyes, "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Yeah," Mr. Neal said, "My son, he... uh...died here in L.A. and I'm taking him home."
"I hope your trip goes well, Mr Neal." She said before adding, "And thank you for flying BritishAir."
The man who called himself Mr. Neal boarded the plane and headed for his seat which was somewhere in the back of the coach section. As he pushed past several fellow passengers on his way to his seat, he quickly scanned the all the seats he passed. Finally, two rows before getting to his seat, he saw what he was looking for.
From the window seat, a pair of eyes, as blue as the sky they would soon be flying in, met his. Neither showed any reaction to the others presence, other than they held each others gaze for a moment before Mr. Neal continued to his seat and the other went back to his magazine.
Within minutes, the plane had taxied out onto the tarmac and was launching itself down the runway. Once the plane was in the air, Mr. Neal immediately grabbed his pillow and blanket, tipped his seat back and closed his eyes. When the stewardess came around to check on the passengers, she passed him by because she believed he was sleeping, however, had she looked a little closer she would have noticed that his lips were moving.