[center][color=66cdaa][h1][b]Bob[/b][/h1][/color]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/zJYlBVi.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][b][u]Location:[/u][/b] San Fransisco, USA
[b][u]Interacting with:[/u][/b] The Delivery Man, Captain Wilkerson and Natasha Brinne [@Lady Amalthea]
[u][b]Date:[/b][/u] March 14[sup]th[/sup][/center]

[hr]

Bob waited patiently in front of San Fran airport due to his Delivery Man arriving late, playing his golden harmonica to the tune of "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. He didn't feel stressed, worried or even angry, he was just excited. This was the day of departure, the gateway out of this damn country. Don't get him wrong, the United States was better off than most countries and he knew that. But years in prison and homelessness made him slightly bitter and he was happy to leave. Not that he thought this would be permanent, there was no doubt in his mind that this was a temporary set up, "his" money taken away and sending him back to mope around in Hunter's Point.

But hell, this has been one hell of a beginning to a journey of a lifetime. He was content now, jittery with excitement and a permanent smile on his face the whole day. As the Delivery Man came up to him, he almost jumped in joy. Dressed in a finely made, loose tuxedo and burdened with a backpack and a roller bag, it would've been absolutely ridiculous. He couldn't stop himself from hugging the man in front of him however, beard still as bushy as it had been before all of this (though significantly cleaner), grazing the man's shoulder. The Delivery Man coughed, pushing him away before fixing his tie.

"Come with me, Mr. Thompson." He grabbed his luggage and headed off into the airport. Bob followed him, making sure not to get distracted by the busy crowds around him. He had never gone into an international airport before, but he had gone into a domestic airport to fly to Dallas to meet his cousins. From what he remembered of the experience, they weren't supposed to be flying through like this. '[color=66cdaa][i]Guess this is what being rich for a long time gets you.[/i][/color]' He shrugged as the Delivery Man led him to a private plane, gesturing for him to enter.

He was greeted by an elderly captain, along the same lines as himself. He grinned at the man and the man grinned back. Extending his hand, the Captain welcomed him "Welcome Mr. Thompson. I am Captain Wilkinson. I will be flying you and the others today. Would you like anything in particular?"

Bob shook his head before smiling once again, accepting the extended hand. "[color=66cdaa]No thank you, Captain. I'm fine thank you.[/color]" He paused, dwelling on the previous statement. "[color=66cdaa]There are others?[/color]" The Captain merely nodded, gesturing to the rest of the plane and saying "One is already there."

Nodding back, he entered the plane, seeing the space that he would be in for the next eleven hours. It showed the opulence and wealth of the person that made the contest and it slightly scared him how a man or woman could be that rich. At first he didn't notice the other occupant but set his eyes on his fellow contestant. Approaching her, he grinned and extended his hand. His eyes twinkled, a grandfatherly aura about him. It was time to put the mask on. "[color=66cdaa]Hello, m'lady. It is lovely to fly with you today. It is Natasha, isn't it? I am Robbie J. Thompson but most people just call me Bob. If it isn't so rude to ask, would you mind if I sit here?[/color]" His eyes twinkled even more, gesturing to the seat in front of her.