Raul stepped off the plane into a new world. The United States looked rather strange and foreign, or rather, just as strange and foreign as the inside of an airport looked to Raul before yesterday. As he took a moment to absorb his surroundings and recover he realized that he was forgetting his manners. He turned to the elderly woman next to him and said in Spanish

"Thank you for putting up with me, I have never been in a plane... I thought I was a tough guy until today, ha!" 

She smiled and told him that anyone would feel nervous on their first flight before patting his back reassuringly and parting ways. He realized that he may not get to speak his native tongue again for a while. He likely would never have gotten this opportunity had it not been for the extensive English lessons his father had paid for. [i]You'll need this when the Garcia family business goes international, son[/i] he would always say.

That 'family business' was something he was looking forward to leaving behind. The danger, the fear, the death that always surrounded him had become too much. Still all of this was secondary to the guilt. The crosses that adorned his home always felt in conflict with the violence that surrounded it.

[i]We're just surviving like everyone else[/i] was always what he was told. Perhaps they were right, but that was a moot point now; whatever lay ahead at that terminal could not be more dangerous than what he had seen at Caracas. And in that he took comfort.

Despite all of this, he found himself thinking of home longingly. His bed wasn't much but it was certainly better than sleeping in one of those seats. Raul stopped to stretch his aching back and legs.

[i]Or trying to sleep anyway[/i]

He was tempted by travelers sprawled out on benches around him to do the same to get just a few minutes of shuteye, but he was already running late for... something. And so he quickened his pace before checking a clock on the wall. 

[i]12:20, shit[/i]

It wasn't until he found himself facing the unfinished terminal that he realized the utter insanity of what he was doing. He considered himself street-smart; he would never go through with a deal that had hints of a sting or ambush, and yet here he was, half a world away based on the most suspicious instructions he had ever received in his life. 

[i]Perhaps my desire to get out made me do something really, really stupid.[/i]

He almost wanted to turn back and forget that he had ever come, but he didn't have the money to get a ticket home even if he wanted to buy one. The outside of the terminal looked unassuming, and he knew that the only thing left was to move past the tape.

[i]I wish I had brought a weapon[/i]

He didn't want to take the risk that comes with taking arms of any kind into an airport, and more importantly he was trying to leave all of that behind; he had never really been without a gun on his hip or a knife taped to his calf under his jeans at the very least. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable, which is why he was extremely timid as he quietly entered the terminal, and eventually moved through his empty surroundings toward the gate. 

The last thing he expected was some kid listening to music. He could hear the bassy thump of rap beats from some distance, but couldn't discern much more. He looked rather nondescript and bored, not very different from the hundreds of other passengers he had walked by. He went from feeling scared to mildly awkward as he sat down on a different bench near the kid. Did he know about this strange letter? He patted the one in his own jean pocket.

[i]I might need to show this to someone, better not lose it[/i]

Was he just lost, or maybe trying to get away from all of the noise in the terminal? Raul didn't know what to say, and so he didn't say anything. He let the quiet music from his headphones fill the room between them as he sat and pondered his next move.