Scott Jackson Hearing the word 'plane' Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he began to realise how much trouble this was. Opening his eyes, he tilted his head back to look up at the sky, his focus lost for a few moments. The boy turned his head to look at the trailer, his frown deepening slightly. "Fine... But Alejandro better be ok when we get off this plane..."
Adam Davis Lunging Zorro proved to be pretty relaxing for Adam, helping him to calm down but not entirely forget about what had happened. Sighing softly, he began to focus on Zorro more; the stallion sensing his distractiono and taking advantage of it.
(-eye twitch- Does it really matter? Cause I think October will say the same thing)
Scott Jackson Mentally groaning at the use of a nickname for him, Scott followed her onto the plane. Once there, he quickly found a seat and sat down, plugging in his earphones and switching his iPod on. Scrolling through his songs, he selected one and closed his eyes to listen to 'Figure It Out' by Versaemerge.
((No,"ugh whatever". You know I am right so your Charrie should be classified as an average gal. The only reason for bodyguards is if you can go up to a random person and they know exactly who that one so special "human being" may be. And a private jet, alright but I expect you to be a millionare. I'm just trying to keep this real. Not have everyone suddenly become 100% perfect.))
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Oh baby, you can findme in the back of a Ford truck tailgate.
Sittin' 'round watchin' all these pretty things, gettin' down in that Georgia clay.
And I'll find peace at the bottom of a real tall cold drink, chillin' to some Skynyrd or some old Hank.
Lets get this thing started, it's my kind of party.
((And? I've never seen a national vaulter with bodyguards. Like I said before, my father is a Pro/National lacrosse player? He get's paid less than the average cop and has no bodyguards and a beat up Chevy. Where's the bodyguards now?))
┏-------------------------------┓
Oh baby, you can findme in the back of a Ford truck tailgate.
Sittin' 'round watchin' all these pretty things, gettin' down in that Georgia clay.
And I'll find peace at the bottom of a real tall cold drink, chillin' to some Skynyrd or some old Hank.
Lets get this thing started, it's my kind of party.