Luca POV
"Why won't you just give me at least one?" She whines, attempting to reach up on her tip-toes and marching behind me once I continue to walk, struggling to get to the top of the pile of suitcases and duffle bags as I hold them too high for her. "This is sexism." She's insane. I roll my eyes and shrug off a duffel bag, handing it to her but not giving any more when she waits impatiently for another one. "Misogynist." She grumbles from behind me, then proceeds to mock me in a particularly unpleasant fashion. I glance behind me, catching her smug expression at my reaction, narrowed eyes and an accusing look plastered on my face.
I turn back around to face forward, and notice her catching up to me with that same proud look on her face as she slings the bag over her shoulder.
She's so damn stubborn.
She stays that exact way to and through security, although it falters when she's forced to take her shoes off, to which she takes a fucking millennium to put them back on, claiming they are "intricately and expertly designed". They're just normal fucking boots.
I do find it somewhat funny that they thought boots were deter her when she wrote some huge fucking check to the security guard to allow her to keep her weapons. I just threatened him. It worked.
She's more neutral-looking now, gazing off into the large windows with a bored expression as she slumps back in her seat, the awkward navy blue chairs of the gate not exactly comfortable. She rests her feet on the duffel bag placed on the ground, the only baggage we hadn't checked after security.
"Good afternoon passengers. This is the boarding announcement for flight 89B to Saint Petersburg. Would all first class-" I pick her bag up at this, despite her glare. "Parents with young children, passengers in need of assistance, please have your boarding passes ready."
I walk up, her close behind me with her ticket in hand, waiting in the back of the line behind the other groups. They all get scanned fairly quickly, save for an elderly couple that went on a tangent about the Soviet Union, leaving Ivy and I with only a few people behind us. The short, grumpy ass woman takes my pass, scans it, rather aggressively, and lazily points behind her, as if I would go anywhere except to the fucking plane. She starts tapping her foot impatiently when I wait for Ivy instead, but takes Ivy's pass when she hands it to her anyways.
She scans it, nods, then sends us a distasteful look as we pass her and into the hallway.
Rude ass fucker.
The plane is large, holding around 200 passengers, although only a handful were behind us in the first class line. We don't have to walk very far, as the first class is in the front, but I now understand why so little of these tickets were available, because huge beds, with proper rooms, doors that can open and close, fill the front space. I check our passes and look for our room numbers, quickly reaching one towards the middle.
I steer Ivy inside once we reach its door, allowing her to climb into the furthest bed, with an array of windows next to it, as I place her duffel at our feet. The beds are slightly separated, with small crevices poking out of their headboards and technically two different mattresses. A large piece sticks out between the foot of both beds, I guess to, again, create space between the two.
She immediately falls on the bed, understandable considering it's the fucking crack of dawn, but she has contacts in. I shake her a little after shutting the door behind me, earning a displeased groan from her, and a shuffle to avoid any further disturbance.
