First-Class Smugglers

Spurring an Existential Crisis

     "Oh!" Freddie grinned, despite Jase's obviously irritated expression. "Well then we can just hang out, catch up! I wanna tell you about this plane Dad just got for me for my—"

     "Oh no." Jase stood up and stretched his legs, "I think I'll go spend some time with his majesty. A captain should indubitably ingratiate 'imself with the money-mindless men he migrates, I think." He grinned and laughed humourlessly, "And that captain is me, for probably the only time in my life...so why not enjoy myself a bit with the person who just stomped on my ambitions huh?"

     He opened the trap and stepped down. But before his head left the room, he pointed at Freddie. "Don't move." He commanded, "And don't. Touch. Anything.

     Then— to choruses of Freddie assuring and reassuring Jase that he wouldn't move a muscle— Jase climbed down the stairs and out of the portal room, and strolled casually towards the first-class cabin. Rita was standing in front of it, between the Prince's two guards and in front of the door, and she walked up to him when he was halfway down the hall.

     "Just going to check on our prestigious passenger." Jase told her.

     "You left that child at the wheel?" she asked him suspiciously.

     "We're on CYP." Jase told her meaningfully, "And I'm not sitting with him through it."

     One of Rita's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she nodded understandingly, and stepped aside. After the Prince's guards patted him down for weapons, Jase entered the first-class cabin, a beige-coloured room designed for comfort and relaxation. Aside from the short crystal chandelier and gentle classical music playing, there were two lounging chairs positioned side-by-side in the middle of the room, a long couch, and a low, ornate coffee table in between them. A black wood buffet stood against the wall, upon which wine sat chilling in an ice bucket with more fancy glassware than was possibly necessary. The two occupants sat leisurely in the lounging chairs with the three other bodyguards staggered throughout the room.

     "Is everything alright Captain?" Sir Escort asked him, rising nervously from his seat.

     "Yep!" Jase replied. He jumped, and plopped himself lying down length-wise on the couch, "Condensing the culminating characteristics of this case, all is completely copesetic." He grinned at Sir Escort's shocked face, and looked over at the Prince. "Just thought I'd come back here to relax a bit." He finished cryptically.

     The Prince's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Jase looked at the coffee table and saw two finished plates of food with the husks of eaten lobsters still on them. The prince himself was holding a long-stemmed glass of some sparkling liquid.

     "Someone ate quickly." Jase commented.

     "I was feeling peckish, yes." The Prince answered.

     "What are we celebrating?" Jase put an arm behind his head and waved his other hand at Sir Escort. The latter looked to the Prince first, who nodded, so that the older man went to bring Jase a glass.

     "Non-alcoholic, I'm sure you'll be happy to know." the Prince said, "I understand you are on duty right now." His eyes wandered to Jase's dirty boots on the pristine couch.

     "And here I thought royalty always enjoyed the finest extremities of luxury." Jase replied, and accepted his sparkling beverage with a condescending nod to the still-confused Sir Escort.

     "My father perhaps." The Prince replied, "But when I am King, things will be different."

     "Do tell." Jase prompted.