_________________________________
- Blair Caverhill was never one who was good with the heat. Worst of all, the Mumbai airport was both hot and the air was incredibly thick with humidity. The intern was constantly tugging at the front of his shirt in an attempt to cool himself off yet, to no avail. The heat was as thick as ever and it seemed inescapable. Unfortunately, the pair (the pair, of course, referring to his employer and Blair himself) were both stuck within the airport until their two 'escorts' turned up. Upon William (or, as Blair called him: Mr. Cook, using the surname to come off far more polite) turning to him with a seemingly rhetorical question, Blair frowned. In his hands he clutched a simple flip notepad and, balanced precariously on his right ear was a blue-ink pen.
"Uh...I-I don't..." He stuttered to say, yet his words were cut off by another question from his employer. Blair fell silent at this, his soft brown gaze drifting absently over to the gate. Considering the rush of the Mumbai airport the plane could have long been delayed...Blair's nose was starting to itch at the scents of various 'foreign' baggage. Chickens? Really? Of course it was probably not an oddity here, but Blair didn't like the look of those beady-eyed, buggy lookin' creatures. Distractedly, the intern tugged at the front of his white shirt once again in an attempt to distract himself from the birds. He figured it was better he did not look.
"Probably late, sir." Blair offered a little agitatedly. He noticed that his employer seemed to be in a bit of an stressed mood, constantly pacing back and forth in a worried manner. "Plane delays and everything. Uhm..." In a hassle, Blair removed his pen from his ear and flipped rapidly through the pages of his little notepad. In sloppy hand-writing on the top right hand corner of the current page read: '2:45pm'. Blair glanced back up at William: "Any minute now. A few minutes late won't be a huge deal..." Then again, his employer might take a 'few minutes' quite harshly, considering the situation. Blair, of course, was not one to be overly considered about the Cintamani Stone. This was all his employer's 'crazy fantasy' after all. Blair was just the unfortunate intern who was dragged into it all. Why him? Blair had always managed to screw up at the easiest of tasks. Fetching a coffee, for one. Blair had ended up leaving the coffee alone for too long and it had cooled down. In an attempt to heat it up and make it seem 'fresh' Blair had put it in a microwave...with the metal spoon. And that was just one of Blair's latest antics. There was plenty more he had in memory, and he was sure that his employer recalled those as well.
From the window, Blair faintly caught the shape of a plane descending upon the runway. It bounced once, and then the wingflaps were sent up in an attempt to slow the plane down. Ah, planes. Blair had a rather odd fear of heights and, of course, planes being the worst of these. When it came to planes, Blair would often drift off into another world in an attempt to seem less afraid or simply put on noise-cancelling headphones and sleep. Looking out through windows often gave the intern a rather nauseating feeling that he simply could not get around. Of course, he hadn't traveled much as a kid which was probably the cause of his fear as an adult. To William, Blair absently murmured: "That's probably them now." Really, the intern did not know much about the two girls coming out to Mumbai. Well, they were girls for one, so that was probably going to be an issue for Blair. He had a weird...nervous thing around the opposite gender. It often consisted of screwing up words, fumbling with papers, and making odd excuses to go and deal with his anxiety elsewhere. Afterall, Blair had more or less been a social pariah in highschool. Real life; this wasn't any easier.
