Update your settings

42,000 feet in the sky in a cylindrical, solid metal coffin with wings was the last place Daesyn wanted to be. He hated flying. He hated the narrow, cramped seats of economy class, the intruding concoction of funky smells emanating from several passengers around him, and the noise. The grinding rumble of the aircraft as it sped through a rough patch of turbulence that would see the somewhat intimidating male gripping the thin armrests for dear life. “Fuck this. Next time we’re walking.” Daesyn hissed through gritted teeth.

“Hm?” The tanned bulk of his best friend and fellow MMA fighter, Kadyn, sat wedged in the seat between the window and middle seats. His tawny blonde hair clinging damply to the wide expanse of his forehead. “We’re not walking, D. That’s ridiculous. It’s just a bit of turbulence.”

Daesyn scoffed, swiveling his amber hues up and down the center aisle in search of the coffee cart. You know, the ones that carried the secret stashes of miniature alcohol portions too small for a man like himself to consume and numb the nerves. “I need a drink.” 

The flight was long. Arduous. And no better than catching public transport. Literally.

A small head of strawberry hair poked its way between two of the head rests. Beady, inquisitive little eyes darting between the two larger men positioned with a single vacant seat between them. Daesyn caught a whiff of the child first. Chocolate, pretzels, and that all too familiar child smell that most would need to physically press their face into the child’s scalp to smell - so weird, and no, he definitely does not want to smell children. Blech. Grubby little fingers coated in crisp seasoning wriggled their way over to Kayden eagerly. Pokepokepoke. 

The male merely popped one eye open at the child who disappeared with the rustle of a packet. Yep, intimidating. Daesyn had no interest in being the in-flight entertainment for a child. And where was that drink? He’s back to glaring up and down the aisle, squinting in desperation for that much needed gulp of heated relief. Gimme, gimme, gimme. 

—

Dublin’s International Airport was small, quaint, and smelled of Guinness and petrichor. Daesyn’s maw split in a wearisome yawn. “Right,” he grunted, peering around as if expecting someone to flag him down. But there wasn’t anyone. Footfalls carried quickly across the polished floor, the drag of his suitcase wheels grating against his eardrums. He hated it. He wanted to go home, back to the comfort of his own bed, with a healthy replenishment of alcoholic beverages awaiting him in the refrigerator.

 “C’mon, Big guy. Time to go. We’ve got a horse and cart to catch!” Kadyn’s laughter sprang forth, thunderous and filled with amusement. Daesyn was far from amused.