The interior of the plane smelled like an expensive car and looked like something from a movie. Instead of neat rows of seats, white leather chairs were seemingly scattered around. Two sets had shiny fold-down tables between them, and beyond was what looked like a couch behind a half wall partition. With the gray carpet, gleaming wood, and white textured walls, it looked like a house. It was only the fuselage's curved shape and the row of small, shuttered airplane windows that ruined the illusion.
Verchiel flopped on the couch and Neil perched near him, already buckled into a seat. Cyprus sat in one of the chairs, his feet kicked up on the seat across from him and his bag tucked under one of the tables. Nervously, Katelina took the nearest chair, and fished her seatbelt out of the crack.
