“I fucking hate planes,” Josie said, shuffling awkwardly in her seat.
“You say that about cars,” Iona pointed out, sipping her wine with ease. That was all fine for Iona who could basically drug herself into accepting they were thousands of feet above the ground using only mere science and magic to keep the giant metal tube afloat.
Josie pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. The information screen said they had almost 5 hours left of their flight.
5, miserable, fucking hours.
“Oh cheer up,” Iona said, “you get to interview your creep of the week when we get there!”
“Thanks,” Josie muttered. No matter how much she wanted to haul Oliver Ratchet’s arise over the coals of justice, she really wished they could have done this at home.
But sadly for her, billion dollar criminal overloads did not live in the shit end of London with only two cats and a noisy neighbour for company. He lived in the luxurious villa on his own goddam island like he was straight out of an James Bond novel. Josie was pretty sure he had an evil white fluffy cat that he would keep to look intimidating.
Hope Riiya and Tee are okay she thought. Nathan would be going to check on them, and whilst she trusted Nathan to do a good job, they were her cats and that meant they were her responsibility.
Josie sighed, trying to find some level of comfort in the cramped space.
These were going to be some of the longest 5 hours of her life.