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According to Mr. Edgeworth, at least, they arrive to the airport at a reasonable time.
Kay, however, would argue that waking up before the sun has even risen (the polite way of saying the ass crack of dawn, which she knows from experience is a phrase that Mr. Edgeworth isn’t particularly fond of) just so they can sit at their gate for like, an hour and a half before boarding because the plane isn’t even there yet isn’t really that reasonable. She thinks they could squeeze in at least thirty more minutes of sleep, to which Mr. Edgeworth replied that they’re more than welcome to sleep at the terminal because he would rather be safe than sorry.
Mr. Edgeworth, to put it simply, is the type of person to get to the airport ridiculously early just in case.
Just in case traffic is bad on the way there, just in case checking their bags takes longer than expected, just in case TSA pre-check takes forever because for some reason everyone also got to the airport ridiculously early too, just in case Kay gets them all nearly detained because she forgot she had a pocket knife in her carry-on bag so a security offer that’s already exhausted despite it being half past six in the morning has to pat her down to make sure she isn’t going to assassinate some important political figure in Europe and start the next world war, and then Kay high-fives Sebastian while security is searching her bag and then the same exhausted security officer has to pat her down a second time just in case Sebastian had handed off a weapon of mass destruction during their split-second high-five.
Not that that would happen, of course. This is all very hypothetical.
At the very least, the thing about having a long flight back to Europe from visiting the Wrights is that they all have an excellent excuse to dress comfortably. Well, relatively so. Mr. Edgeworth’s idea of comfort today is slacks ironed so stiffly that they probably couldn’t even wrinkle if they tried, a collared shirt and a sweater vest (which, to be fair, is as relaxed as Kay and Sebastian have ever seen him in public). But Kay, on the other hand, is wearing the exact same thing she wore to bed: pink sweatpants and a black crop top depicting three crows huddled together on a branch, the text below them reading Murder? I hardly know ‘er!
And, of course, crocs, because if she’s going to have to take her shoes off to stick in those bins to go through security she doesn’t want to have to deal with the extra hassle of retying her Chucks.
“What would we even be smuggling in our shoes?” Kay wonders aloud, popping her crocs back on. Adventure straps off, of course, not because she isn’t prepared for adventure but because she likes to live on the edge.
Sebastian yawns behind his hand, standing beside her. He’s similarly dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants that are slightly too short for him, because trying to find pants the right size for his beanpole legs has proven to be a bit of a nightmare. “I dunno. Maybe, like…drugs and stuff?”
Kay makes a face. “Ew. Why would you keep drugs in your shoes? That’s where your feet go.”
“What on earth are you two talking out this time?” Mr. Edgeworth’s voice says behind them, and they both start. He raises a brow at them as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “I do hope you’re behaving yourselves and not causing any more mischief. Especially you, Kay.”
“We’re being very behaved right now, for your information,” Kay replies. “Right, Seb?”
“What? Oh, y-yes. Right. Very behaved,” Sebastian stammers.
Kay frowns up at him. “Why do you sound like you’re lying when you’re literally telling the truth?”
Mr. Edgeworth chuckles as Sebastian frowns back at her. “Alright, alright. Do you both have everything? If so, we can head to our gate.”
Kay surreptitiously checks Sebastian’s shoes; once, on a flight, he forgot to grab his shoes from the security bin and they had to walk all the way back from their gate at the other end of the airport to ask for his shoes back. Sebastian catches Kay looking and makes a face at her; in response, she giggles and sticks her tongue out at him. Mr. Edgeworth just shakes his head and beckons them to follow him to their gate.
He walks briskly ahead of them, weaving through tired travelers like their flight is about to leave in five minutes and not fifty-five, though he’s kind enough to wait for them at the bottom of the escalator. Before they step on, Kay nudges Sebastian.
“You know,” she says slyly, “if you’re not careful you can get your clothes caught in these things and you’ll get sucked up and die.”
Sebastian’s eyes widen, and he looks at the moving staircase in alarm. “W-what? Really?”
“No, Sebastian,” Mr. Edgeworth cuts in, before Kay can convince him that he’s going to meet his untimely demise on an airport escalator. “They’re perfectly safe. She’s merely joking with you.”
“…Okay,” Sebastian says hesitantly, but he’s still extra cautious when getting on the escalator after.
They disembark and Mr. Edgeworth sets off again at top speeds. Kay and Sebastian trail behind, peering in at all the weird airport shops. They pass everything from a gift shop to a chiropractor’s, and as they go by a jewelry shop (which, in Kay’s opinion, is a very silly thing to have in an airport), the kind with expensive rings and necklaces locked behind clear, spotless glass, Kay points to one of the display cases.
“Betcha I could pick that lock.”
Sebastian frowns. “With what? Didn’t Mr. Edgeworth take away your lock picks?”
“Bobby pin, duh.”
“Wouldn’t it set off an alarm or something?”
“Not if you pick the lock right.”
“Kay,” Mr. Edgeworth says from in front of them, “I do believe we discussed not openly planning to steal merchandise in public?”
Kay sticks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants and does her very best to look as innocent as possible, not that Mr. Edgeworth is looking. “I didn’t say I was gonna,” she says, “just that I probably could.”
“Perhaps we save those conversations for a different time, especially considering the security here already sees you as a threat.”
Sebastian snickers, and Kay promptly smacks him on the arm (gently, of course).
They continue on towards the gate, having left all the gift shops behind as they make their way past restaurants and cafes, intoxicating smells drifting from each and every one. Kay’s stomach grumbles; she hadn’t eaten this morning and she really, really regrets it. She supposes she has a bag of Starbursts stashed at the bottom of her backpack, but if she pulls them out then Sebastian is going to want the pink ones but she wants the pink ones. The Starbursts are going to have to wait until they’re on the plane and he falls asleep, she muses. He always falls asleep on planes.
“What the fuck, that avocado toast is seventeen dollars?” Kay exclaims, eyeing the menu of a restaurant they’re passing. “That better be the best goddamn avocado toast in the world. With, like, gold flakes on it and shit.”
“Avocado toast sounds gross,” Sebastian says, frowning.
“Hey, you think they got dinosaur nuggets at any of these places?” she asks, trying to get a good look at the menu of the next place before they go by it entirely. It takes her a second to realize Sebastian has stopped following her; she turns around to see him staring at her with a look on his face somewhere between confusion and alarm. “…You good, Seb?”
“How do they make dinosaur nuggets if all the dinosaurs are dead?” Sebastian asks, and he, is course, completely serious.
Kay snorts, she can’t help it. “Oh my god. No. No, Sebastian, they’re chicken nuggets. They’re just shaped like dinosaurs. You know, like T. Rexes and stuff?”
“That’s a thing?”
“Yeah, dude, you’ve never had dino nuggets? You’ve been missing out.”
“Technically,” Mr. Edgeworth cuts in, having realized his two wards are no longer following him to the gate like they were supposed to and therefore returning to retrieve them, “birds evolved from dinosaurs. So, in a way, albeit a bit of a scientifically inaccurate way, all chicken products are dinosaur products.”
“Okay, Mr. Edgeworth, just because you have a fancy accent that makes you sound smart when you talk doesn’t mean you can just lie to us and get away with it,” Kay says sternly.
Mr. Edgeworth laughs at that. “Birds are classified as avian reptiles, Kay. Feel free to research it on your phone when we get to the gate and you’ll see for yourself. And I don’t have an accent.”
“You kinda do, though.”
“Alien reptiles?” Sebastian sputters loudly. “Birds are aliens?”
Kay giggles. “Oh my god, you’re breaking his brain.”
“Avian, Sebastian,” Mr. Edgeworth says patiently. “With a v.”
Sebastian puts his face in his hands, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “It’s too early for this,” he whines, and Kay pats him on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, buddy. I didn’t know birds were dinosaurs either.”
“Yes, yes, now please come along. We’re on a schedule,” Mr. Edgeworth prompts (though they have plenty of time). They’re some of the first people to arrive at the gate, and Kay is all too willing to dump her backpack into a chair. Sebastian carefully sets his violin case in the chair beside it; Trucy had insisted he bring it home so he could play for her.
Stuff officially dumped, Kay props her hands on her fists and faces Mr. Edgeworth, who has lowered himself primly into a chair and whipped out his book of crosswords.
“Hey, Mr. Edgeworth?” She asks. “Can we get food?”
Mr. Edgeworth raises a brow at her. “I thought I told you to eat this morning before we left.”
“Yeah, you did, but I forgot ‘cause I had to finish packing my stuff.”
“I was under the impression you were already packed, young lady.”
A tiny smirk flickers across Sebastian’s face at Mr. Edgeworth’s use of young lady.
Kay narrows her eyes. “Well…I only had a little more to do,” she says, and then, feeling rather mischievous, adds, “and it’s not even my fault I wasn’t done last night.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah! Sebastian was distracting me.”
Sebastian’s smirk vanishes instantly. “What? I was not!”
“Were too!”
“Was not! Trucy was showing me magic tricks in the living room so all you’re doing is fabricating lies and slander!”
Mr. Edgeworth raises a brow at Sebastian. “Very well said, Sebastian. That was an excellent retort.”
“Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!” Sebastian says brightly, shooting a triumphant grin at Kay, who merely rolls her eyes and pretends like she wasn’t also just a little proud of him for using big words correctly.
“Okay, okay, so can we get food or what?” she asks. “I’m starving over here.”
Mr. Edgeworth sighs. “Sebastian, are you also hungry?”
“Maybe a little,” Sebastian says politely, shrugging.
“…Alright.” They watch as he retrieves his wallet from his bag, fishing through his selection of American and European currency (impeccably organized). He procures a ten dollar bill for each of them. “Here. You may either spend it on yourselves or share it equally, and anything you don’t spend, you may keep.”
“Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!” Kay says brightly, and Sebastian follows suit with his own, quieter apology right after.
“Of course. Be quick about it, though,” Mr. Edgeworth says, nodding at the screen behind the gate desk. “I don’t want to board without you two.”
“We’ll be quick,” Kay promises.
“Alright. You’ll remember where the gate is?”
Kay nods. Sebastian does not, but that surprises no one.
“Good. I’ll keep an eye on your things while you’re gone. Don’t be long.”
They promise they won’t and then dart off, back towards the shops. Kay turns the ten dollars over in her hands, scrutinizing the restaurant options. Everything is so expensive.
She turns to Sebastian. “Do we want, like, real people food or a bunch of snacks?”
Sebastian furrows his brows, thinking. Kay waits patiently. “Snacks,” he says finally, after careful consideration.
“Okay, cool that’s what I was thinking! We could get the good snacks, too, if we pool our money” she says, snapping her ten bucks. “Or, like, fifty cans of Pringles. Both are pretty valid options, I think.”
(They could not, in fact, get fifty cans of Pringles at an airport for twenty dollars.)
They head into the first little store they find that looks particularly promising, the kind with rows of candy and food that is definitely not good for you lining the back walls. Kay peruses her options; ten dollars won’t really buy you much at an airport if you want anything good. Typical Mr. Edgeworth, making them be financially responsible and think about their choices.
“Could we get PopTarts?” Sebastian asks, leaning over her shoulder.
“They only have individual PopTarts,” Kay replies, pointing at the lower shelf stocked with shiny packets. “Not, like, a box.”
“Well, we can share,” Sebastian says, peering at the flavors. “Half for you, half for me.”
“Yeah? You’d be down to split a PopTart?”
“Only if you share your Starbursts.”
Kay frowns. “…How did you..?”
Sebastian shrugs, a little smile flitting across his lips. “You always have Starbursts when we fly,” he says, the tiniest hint of smugness in his voice. “So…we can get the brown sugar PopTarts if you let me have the pink Starbursts for the return flight home.”
It's a tempting offer. The brown sugar PopTarts are like, the best ones, but she doesn’t want to have to give up her pink Starbursts just for half a PopTart…
“Some. You can have some of the pink Starbursts,” Kay bargains. “Half a PopTart for…half the pink Starbursts. Deal?”
Sebastian tilts his head, thinking it over. “How many are left in the bag?” He asks skeptically.
It’s a fair question. “It’s an unopened bag. Totally up to chance. Cross my heart,” she promises.
Sebastian studies her for a second, probably trying to figure out if she’s telling the truth or not. After a beat, he nods. “Okay,” he says, and sticks out his hand. He’s not wearing his gloves; Kay is proud of him for that. “Deal.”
She takes his hand and shakes it, and then they turn back to the snacks and pick out their choices, carefully pooling their money. They decide to save a little bit for cookies from the Starbucks and spend the rest at this shop, since they have the big apple juice bottles that they can split on the plane. The lady across the counter smiles at them, and says they share surprisingly well. They just shrug and smile back.
They return with a carefully selected assortment of snacks, including a packet of brown sugar PopTarts, a bottle of apple juice, two chocolate chip cookies from the nearby coffee shop and, of course, a can of Pringles. Miles eyes their options skeptically but ultimately decides not to say anything against it. He certainly doesn’t want to put up with two teenagers hopped up on sugar and junk food for several hours on a plane, but he knows these two quite well at this point, and is certain they’ll crash before they even reach halfway through the flight like they did on the way here, the movie they were watching with shared earbuds doomed to the fate of a sleeping audience. In any case, their first class seats are two to a row, and they’re sitting next to each other. He has his own seat, so should they be particularly hyperactive, he won’t have to deal with as much of it as he might otherwise. He’s certainly glad they’re managing to share, though.
Once they board, they settle in to the seats across from Miles’ and work to divide their stash. Miles glances over at them over his crossword from time to time. At one point, Kay is gently shaking the Pringles can by her ear, her tongue sticking slightly out of her mouth as she concentrates.
“I would say there’s about sixty Pringles in this can,” Kay says, “so you get thirty and I get thirty.”
Sebastian frowns. “…do we have to count how many as we go?”
“…Nah. We can probably eyeball it.”
And the final thing they divide up is a bag of Starbursts Kay retrieves from the depth of her backpack. Miles watches, amused, as Kay counts out all the pink ones in the bag and splits them into two piles, Sebastian watching carefully (likely to make sure Kay doesn’t palm any of them). In return for half the Starbursts, it seems Kay gets half a PopTart in return. Miles can’t help but smile when Kay makes a tiny origami crane out of one of her Starburst wrappers, and Sebastian, wide-eyed, demands she show him how she did it. She’s much better than Miles was, back in the day.
A few hours into their flight, Miles glances at his two wards once more. As he predicted, Sebastian is dozing off in his seat with his headphones on, head resting against the window. He’ll probably wake with stiff limbs since there’s never enough leg room, not even in first class. Kay, beside him, taps away at her Switch, her eyes half-lidded. Their shared can of Pringles rests precariously between them on the armchair, moments from tipping over should any of them make a sudden move, and they have a little army of origami cranes lined up on Sebastian’s tray table.
A smile plays at the corners of Miles’s mouth, and he turns back to his crossword.
The next clue reads: a seven letter word for relative. How appropriate, Miles thinks fondly, and picks up his pencil.