[You've landed, right?]
"Yeah. You're as precise as always, I just got off the jet."
Zion lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch, then looked down at Suga, whose face was clouded with questions. Leaning closer, he whispered softly that it was William calling. Suga gave a faint nod before turning his gaze back to the scene before them—a wide open field bordered by tall trees, the private airstrip owned by the Alpha Prime Union in California.
It was fortunate; if there hadn't been a private strip here, they would have had to land elsewhere— and if that meant another private airfield, they would still have been forced to transfer through an international airport afterward. This way, it was a single, direct trip from Paradis Island to California.
[Andrew's coming to pick you up. He wouldn't let me come along, that guy… always treating me like I'm fragile omega or something.]
"Andrew? Didn't I say to send Gale instead?"
