12-08-2024, 10:39 PM
Connor felt a sigh of relief and some of the tension he had been holding in his gut dissipated. He shot Ayden a tight smile, but kept his voice neutral. "Ok. I can be there tomorrow. Shoot me the address and time." By flight, it was only 4 hours to Virginia, assuming there was one today. He was sure Ayden was already on it, making arrangements. Albuquerque, Grand Junction or Colorado Springs were the nearest hubs and all about 3 hours away. Unless those assholes who had blown up their lives could get them a helicopter to those airports.
He wasn't sure he liked that option. He didn't like being forced. And telling them too much would tie them to a course of action- would restrict their options. Giving details gave people time to interfere.
His packing, as usual, took 20 minutes. Ayden's....well, she had a lot of equipment to go over. Despite not being a gun enthusiast himself, he did appreciate tools and a craftsman. And Ayden was that. Her guns had been broken down and looked clean. But she took the time to inspect each part, make sure it was clean, that everything worked as expected. Maybe he would ask her to give him training.
They landed in Alexandria at 7am the next day. He wasn't a fan of the east coast. Way too hot and humid. But being on the Atlantic seaboard took away a lot of that. And he DID like the smell of the salt water. Reminded him of his childhood, going to Horatio's restaurant with his mom and dad. Named after a fictional British Royal Officer from the 1800s, the restaurant felt like a ship of the era, with all the authentic- to his mind, anyway- nautical theming. With almost zero exception, he detested sea food. But the one exception had been the clam chowder they served.
That led him into a deep fascination with old style sailing, the feel of New England, sailors, and all the rest. He'd picked up Moby Dick again, years after slogging his way through it in High School, and found himself laughing at the humor and enjoying the story in a way he hadn't as a teenager.
All of which to say was, well, if this hadn't been a seriously fucked up situation, this might be a fun place to explore. He was not foolish enough to imagine that that would this trip. He doubted things were going to go well. Or rather, just expected the worst. That was sort of his motto. Expect the worst and all surprises are good surprises.
They found a hotel and got check in. Sitting on the bed now, looking at Ayden, he felt nervousness gambol about in his gut like a pack of elephants. He shoved it down. He had to focus. "How do you feel about all this? Did you find a spot for....you know?" He trailed off. Focus.
He wasn't sure he liked that option. He didn't like being forced. And telling them too much would tie them to a course of action- would restrict their options. Giving details gave people time to interfere.
His packing, as usual, took 20 minutes. Ayden's....well, she had a lot of equipment to go over. Despite not being a gun enthusiast himself, he did appreciate tools and a craftsman. And Ayden was that. Her guns had been broken down and looked clean. But she took the time to inspect each part, make sure it was clean, that everything worked as expected. Maybe he would ask her to give him training.
They landed in Alexandria at 7am the next day. He wasn't a fan of the east coast. Way too hot and humid. But being on the Atlantic seaboard took away a lot of that. And he DID like the smell of the salt water. Reminded him of his childhood, going to Horatio's restaurant with his mom and dad. Named after a fictional British Royal Officer from the 1800s, the restaurant felt like a ship of the era, with all the authentic- to his mind, anyway- nautical theming. With almost zero exception, he detested sea food. But the one exception had been the clam chowder they served.
That led him into a deep fascination with old style sailing, the feel of New England, sailors, and all the rest. He'd picked up Moby Dick again, years after slogging his way through it in High School, and found himself laughing at the humor and enjoying the story in a way he hadn't as a teenager.
All of which to say was, well, if this hadn't been a seriously fucked up situation, this might be a fun place to explore. He was not foolish enough to imagine that that would this trip. He doubted things were going to go well. Or rather, just expected the worst. That was sort of his motto. Expect the worst and all surprises are good surprises.
They found a hotel and got check in. Sitting on the bed now, looking at Ayden, he felt nervousness gambol about in his gut like a pack of elephants. He shoved it down. He had to focus. "How do you feel about all this? Did you find a spot for....you know?" He trailed off. Focus.