For Maël, airports were a nuisance and an amusement at the same time. On one hand there was all the waiting, all the armed guards, all those security checks and scanners one had to go through just in order to be kept waiting afterwards still. On the other hand none of this was anywhere near being a tool appropriate in order to detect what they were really dealing with in his case. Maintaining his countenance, the frenchmen allowed the overabundance of uselessness to hold him in its firm grasp while he wondered how much it would cost to get the Sunday Group its own learjet or even something bigger for a fully mobile office and lab solution.

The outcome of his considerations was a rather negative though: First of all it simply was way too expensive. Secondly however the idea also held great potential for internal conflict. If one considered what the Sunday Group had done to a once innocent Chicago office building a fully customizable plane would probably turn out as a restored B-52 with a built-in shooting range and its empty bombing bay being used to get rid of alchemical experiments in the process of going horribly wrong.

Speaking of budget, it became quite apparent where some of that did go when Eleanor and Val turned for another part of the 737 than he had to. The creation of privileges without explanation was one thing, the seat he found himself to be cursed with was another. This was an airplane, the method of locomotion at least once associated with freedom like no other! And they were going to fly over the US, a country that valued 'freedom' more than anything else! And where was all that freedom now ? Faded away in a wisp of nothingness, probably just like that shit piece of crack Eleanor must have been smoking when booking this three square feet torture chamber without walls for him!

Reaching for his phone before service would become unavailable due to takeoff, Maël wrote a text message to his boss:

[i]My knees feel like Han in the trash compactor, except I know there isn't any droid to save them. I hope the flight will be short enough for you not to explore all of that space you have in business class![/i]

The stewardess walked by only to get her well trained corporate smile blasted out of her face by his stare. Maël knew she only tried to do a good job, but he was not in a good mood currently. He felt rather... wedged in. Maybe they could save even more money and still increase his traveling comfort by some out-of-the-box thinking ? Putting him into a large crate and sealing it with some magic to obfuscate its true contents might do the trick since cargo holds were pressurized. Or maybe his demonic alter ego had the potential to evolve if the desire was strong enough ? Now would have been a damn good time to grow a pair of wings in order to do some flying himself!

[hider=Summary]Maël settles in for hours of discomfort to come and would like to put Eleanor on a stretching bank until she's 6'4.[/hider]