He was so glad to be heading back home. Back to his home, his grandmother and everything. Back to the warmth. A break from the cold weather, the snow, was necessary, and after they boarded the flight he draped his coat over the back of his seat, settling in for the flight. It would have to make a stop before their final destination to refuel---the bane of small jets that might be smaller and faster, but with smaller tanks and engines as well.

It was quiet while they took to the air, and once things leveled out he focused on his notebook, which had been stowed away in his carry-on bag. He immediately looked toward the hostess as she approached and gave a bright smile, tilting his head a bit at her comment. "That'd be beautiful, dear." He replied brightly. "But he's not my son---he's a dear friend of mine. Do I really look that old?" He glanced toward Terry, accepting the hostess's apology with a smile and the glasses of water as well, offering one to Terry.