T is for Tail Number
A piece of Skipper had hoped that folks might overlook the laws he had bent in order to rescue Dusty during the race…but given the number of officials with clipboards that were currently parked in front of him, it would appear that the cornel of hope had been an unrealistic one.
"Don't worry, Skipper." Dusty said a level of saccharin cheerfulness that told the corsair that the smile was completely artificial. "I was able to pay off the fines and I am working with the race officials to help sweep the worst of the offenses under the rug, so there shouldn't be any legal charges leveled against you as long as we get you a tail number assigned to you within the next 48 hours."
"And in order for you to start that process, we need to complete a full incident report." The smile that the TSMT tug gave Skipper was tense, predatory, and did not reach their eyes. She clicked her pen and moved to hover it over the form in her clipboard. "So, let's start with a full medical history.
"Sparky?" The old plane looked to his companion for back up, only to have the little tug cross his tines give him an unimpressed look which told Skipper that the tongue lashing he was getting from the TSMT agent was going to be nothing when compared with the lectured that his little companion was going to be handing him once they were bedded down for the night. "Um…"
"I am waiting." The tug blinked slowly in a way that indicated that she had already run out of patience.
This caused Skipper to sigh heavily because as much as his tail hurt, he was pretty sure that as much as his rutter ached, it was about to smart a whole lot less than his pride.
