"Why the heck would he want to come?!" Ghent hissed, keeping his voice low enough for only Elayra to hear. This was impossible for him to wrap his mind around. It made no sense that Miles should want to come, it made even less sense that he should know of Wonderland's existence. "I thought Wonderland had tea, not booze!" 
	Miles took a step forward. Ghent couldn't tell if he was glaring because of the remark, or if he was squinting because of the downpour. Either way, Miles looked angry, which was rather out of character for the quiet, skittish man Ghent passed on the daily.
	"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't tell him." Elayra hadn't blamed him, but Ghent whispered the disclaimer just in case. He didn't need to give her another reason to dub him a dolt or Featherhead. "Elayra, get behind me, I won't hit you. I'll zap him with magic and we can run for it!"
	Miles' eyes darted between the two. His paranoia increased when he could not overhear the discussion between the teenagers, and this resulted in his hands shaking even more. "I said [i]quiet![/i]" 
 	Ghent stiffened, raising his hands higher to show he still surrendered. To his relief, Elayra surrendered too, but in a different way.
 	[b]"We’ll have a nice, civil chat about it."[/b]
 	[i]A civil chat, yeah right![/i] Ghent scoffed in his head. A hotheaded princess and a deranged drunk wouldn't remain civil for very long.  
	While Ghent inwardly panicked, Miles eyed the surrendered dagger. He listened to Elayra, brow furrowed as he considered the proposition. "Just the three of us..." He turned towards his vehicle, mumbling to someone who wasn't actually there. After what felt a lifetime to Ghent, the man started to lower the gun, blinking once. 
	"There'll be no tricks," Miles warned sharply. "No sudden moves...no [i]cops[/i]." The word was spat with detest.
	Ghent began to smirk, a plan already forming in his mind.
	Miles snarled, waving the gun towards them. "And [i]no magic.[/i]"
	Ghent's smirk vanished.
	"Yeah, that's right...I know more than you think." Miles gripped the weapon tighter and spit on the pavement. "I'm not a fool, and I don't take kindly to being treated like one." 
	Elayra's almost-slip up didn't go unnoticed. Miles observed her with scrutiny, taking a few steps back towards his station wagon. "I'll repeat what I said before," he pulled open the back door. "Get in, both of you."
	The distant sounds of traffic drifted in and out throughout their exchange. Not a single car passed them by, much to Ghent's dismay. "Wait! How do we know you aren't trying to kidnap us?"
	Miles shot him a withering look. "Do you honestly think I'd kidnap you with the cops around the corner?"
	Ghent swallowed. "Well, no but..."
	 Miles climbed into the drivers seat, hands resting on the steering wheel. He sighed heavily, pistol gripped in his right hand. "I don't have all day, and neither do you! Get moving before this becomes uncivil!"
	Ghent glowered and removed his backpack before tossing it into the vehicle with a soft thud. "After you, your..." he stopped himself right in time. Calling Elayra 'your highness' wasn't a good idea. [i]Especially[/i] not in front of Miles. "You're...forgetting your dagger!" Although the cover-up was embarrassingly bad, it worked. After a beat, Ghent cleared his throat, awaiting permission to retrieve the weapon.
	[i]Is this kid for real?[/i] Miles gripped the steering wheel, teeth grit. Ghent was chipping away at what little patience he had left. "Yeah, go ahead! Just hurry it up!"
	Ghent retraced his steps, recovered the weapon from the ground, and returned it to Elayra. "You're welcome," he smirked smugly, leaning one arm against the open door while gesturing towards the backseat with his hand. "Ladies first."