This one was — more aircraft than the concept had prepared her for.
The fuselage was long. The stairs were wide. The interior light coming through the oval windows was warm and deliberate.
"You have a jet," she said.
"Yes."
"I can't — I've never — my entire salary for a year couldn't—"
"Come."
She walked up the stairs behind him, her hand on the rail, telling herself she was not going to gape when she got to the top.
She gaped.
The forward cabin was — tailored. The kind of space that had been designed for specific humans rather than general passengers. Wide seats in white leather. A surface that might have been a table or a bar or both. Lighting that adjusted to the mood it thought you should be having.
Raven sat in one of the forward seats and pulled her.
She landed sideways on his lap with considerably less grace than the maneuver deserved, catching herself on his shoulder.
"Raven—"
