Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 49 ⊰❉⊱

I scanned every civilian we passed in the seats. Searching. For one set of irises that were not mortal. For a fine ring of gold that would give away the game.

But it comforted me that even if an immortal assassin was stowed on the flight they would not act on board. An immortal fight in a pressurised cabin thousands of feet in the air could cause an international incident. That was high profile. That was not how Paragon operated.

Quinn slipped her hand into my own as a steward led us to the business class seating. Luxury to the average mortal but nothing to draw an obstinate amount of attention towards. Plus the fact I think Quinn realised it was irritating enough to be too near to mortals for more than a few minutes let alone the 11 hours we would be airborne.

The woman ahead smiled and gestured to the plush seats alongside the windows. A gracious amount of space at least and no mortals to sit too close. A number of mortals were already in place trying to block out the world around them.

"Fletcher stop glaring at everyone." Quinn murmured.

I relaxed my face instantly not recognising I was.

"It wasn't intentional." I returned low, slipping into my chair and watching Quinn move into hers ahead of my own so she could prop her forearms on the headrest. Those green eyes scanned the surroundings warily as she took in the many mortals moving down the aisle finding other seats.

"I never think I've seen you around so many people." She said faintly.

"It's only your scent that concerns me." I muttered, glancing out the window and wishing the process would be faster.

The sooner we were off the ground the sooner we would be less of a target. I had no doubt they knew I was entirely rogue now. No phone response. No sighting in London. No falling into a trap of immortal assassins–

"Fletcher."

I snapped my eyes back to her and she raised her hand to me. I plucked it out the air and kissed it with a smile that didn't entirely reach my eyes. How could they when we potentially had a thousand year old executioner on board–and that was if they thought little of me. Two would be infinitely worse.

"What are we meant to do–" She paused and threw an attendant a fake smile, "–if we recognise one of them."

"You pretend you didn't." I answered low, scanning ahead as a male stuffed a bag in the overhead. Quinn glanced out at the airport as the pilots began introductions and mundane updates on the weather. The British always did feel at ease once they knew the weather forecast.

"You can get us out right?" She whispered more intently.

I met her eyes in serious.

"From a vacuum sealed tube at twenty thousand feet? No. I might be unbreakable, Quinn but the impact would kill you."

"I'm glad you're choosing now to be this honest with me." She growled.

I couldn't' resist a small smirk.

"I'd sooner let them go through me."

"I need a drink." She answered instead. But the attendants were busy with takeoff preparations and requesting the last to take their seats.

"Apologies you don't quite have the service we're used to."

She threw me a glare before dropping down into her seat ahead of me. I slipped my hand forward despite it and left it against her armrest. A few moments passed before I felt the warmth land over it and tighten.