With an electronic sounding ping, the 'fasten seatbelt' sign lost its light and numerous clicks could be heard throughout the body of the plane. Zandre was amongst them, but unlike most of the passengers surrounding him, he was unable to relax. Stuck in the so-called premium economy class, while his legs weren't squeezed against his chest, there was a lack of privacy, which meant that several of his fellow countrymen kept glancing his way. They were either aware of who he was or were at least thinking they recognised him. Honestly, he thought to himself, it wasn't like he was all that famous. "Tell me again why we are flying premium economy and not business class?" He muttered to his managing agent, though he already knew the reason. The little assistant helping his agent cope with the other minor celebrities on his books while the man was focused on Zandre as he swanned in and out of the country, had booked the tickets. Unfortunately there had been a mix up, so while he was flying east in premium economy, an pretty much unknown actress who caught the eye of a small foreign director, was currently flying business and probably dreamily wondering how fortune favoured her so greatly of late. Hopefully, the girl who had been favoured for her authentic accent more than her acting skills, didn't become too conceited by her run of luck. But then, who knew at this time, whether this was the beginning of her big break or not? After the person in the front seat badgered him for a bit regarding his identity, his agent stepped in and after thanking the man for his support, mentioned that his client would appreciate it if the man could appreciate the fact that it was late and Zandre needed a little privacy. This was a long flight, only leaving the runway a little after eleven in the evening and though it was a direct flight, people were naturally tired. Many threw thankful looks at Zandre and his agent, while looks sent to his fan were either pleading (for him to quieten down) or disdain. He chose to settle down, but with an unhappy expression upon his face. Zandre quickly placed earbuds in his ears, attached to his mobile phone that was in airplane mode. He didn't actually listen to any music, but others were not aware of this. Instead, he was looking at images he had taken on his phone. A sleeping Ichiro, Ichiro captured through the window of the Hall teaching his students, a joint photograph that Ichiro had taken of the pair of them when he was drunk... a warm smile curved his lips, even though he was thinking how he missed him already. He flipped the screen to the text conversation between them; he'd had to go straight to the airport after being in the studio as per his endorsement. Zandre was not a model and it had taken a while for the photographer to get the feel she wanted for the pictures. That said, she was awfully patient and good at her job, making it seem as if the Zandre she'd captured with her lens, had been in that business for years. Unable to bid Ichiro goodbye or taste his tender lips in parting once more, he could only text him. I'm flying out tonight, need to return to the team. Okay. Will you miss me? How can I miss you? You are a large target, just need to roughly aim. Ichiro, you know that's not what I mean. Oh, so how did you mean it? Never mind. He'd only been able to concede, knowing Ichiro wouldn't admit to it, even if he pressed on. He knew the Omega was softening towards him, accepting him physically at least and not just in a sexual manner. But he knew he had to work harder if he wanted the man's heart and soul. Then again, even if he captured those, would his Ichiro really allow him to voice sweet nothings with ease? Zandre couldn't actually imagine it. Will you wish me good luck then? Do you need it? Yes. If it was from him. Okay, good luck! Zandre sighed, resting his arm on the arm of the uncomfortable seat, the phone still loosely in his grasp as his mind wandered. Across the small aisle, a woman nudged the man sitting beside her and he stood up and let her pass. "Do you need any help?" He asked her and she shook her head. "No, I've got it!" She replied, cheerfully as she stood in the aisle reaching for her hand luggage. The plane rippled with a little turbulence, nothing to be worried by, but unexpected nonetheless. The woman lost her balance as the hand luggage fell into her arms, falling back, she tumbled onto the large man behind her. "I am so so sorry!" The woman gasped as she struggled to get off of him, embarrassed by the situation. Her partner took her bag off of her, chiding her gently as she'd been so insistent in grabbing the bag itself. "It's fine," Zandre told her, no matter how distracted his was, he was aware that it wasn't on purpose. But he ignored her continuous apologies, his eyes desperately seeking the phone that had been knocked from his fingers just moments ago. Less than ten seconds later, he heard a sudden crunch. The flight attendant paused. The darn trolley had been a nuisance all night as he pushed it while offering hot beverages and hot towels and obviously the turbulence hadn't helped. But as he wrestled with the thing, he hadn't expected to hear such a sound beneath its wheels. He tugged the trolley back to see the ruined mess of a phone beneath it and slowly glanced up to catch the horrified, brown eyes that he expected belonged to its owner. *****