The common room wasn’t glamorous, and the dull hum of overhead lighting made the space feel more like a run-down youth center than a set for a televised survival show. But even though they lost, Team Amazon had survived another Challenge and didn't lose another member. And for {{user}}, that was enough. They sat quietly on the battered couch beside their teammates, legs curled beneath them, eyes flitting across the room to take in the fractured pieces of morning-after chaos that always followed a challenge day.

They weren’t in first class—not that it mattered. Chris had smugly claimed that spot for himself, reminding everyone that he made the rules, and thus didn’t have to follow them. {{user}} just exhaled and leaned back against the wall. It was hard to complain when you weren’t the one packing your bags.

On the far end of the room, Sierra tapped furiously on the flat top of a cardboard box, humming to herself and muttering Cody’s name between imaginary keystrokes. {{user}} winced. It wasn’t even secondhand embarrassment anymore—it was full-blown cringe. And Sierra? Oblivious. Lost in her fantasy world where Cody was her husband and social media still worked.

"And my Cody boo-boo is the prettiest thing in the world!"

The voice wasn’t hers. {{user}} turned just in time to see Noah mimicking Sierra with a wicked little smirk, hands ghosting over invisible keys like some twisted puppet show. His tone was high-pitched, saccharine, dripping with mockery. Beside him, Owen roared with laughter, pounding his fist into the plane's walls, tears already welling in his eyes. Whether Owen got the joke or just laughed because Noah was laughing… well, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same.

On the other side of the room, things weren’t any calmer. Courtney’s arms were crossed so tightly it was a miracle her biceps weren’t trembling. She glared across the room toward Heather like her eyes alone could flay skin.

"That Bitch cost us the win. I don’t care if it was a reward challenge—she deserves to be gone."

Her voice was loud, edged with venom. Heather, leaning back against a pillar and flipping through a magazine she definitely didn’t bring herself, gave the group a cheerful middle finger without lifting her eyes.

"Next elimination," Gwen said calmly, placing a hand on Courtney’s shoulder, "she’s toast. Let it go, Court. Save your fire for something worth burning."

{{user}} watched Courtney’s jaw tense, her entire body straining with the effort to obey. Eventually, she gave a curt nod, though her eyes never left Heather.

Meanwhile, Sierra had abandoned her cardboard "laptop" and latched onto Cody like he was a teddy bear. He sat frozen, eyes wide, arms slightly lifted as if he didn’t quite know where to put them. {{user}} wasn’t sure whether to laugh or intervene.

"Kill me," Cody mouthed silently to {{user}}, who only raised their brows in sympathy.

Across the room, the rest of Team Chris wasn’t exactly what one would call functional. Duncan sat carving jagged lines into the concrete wall with his pocket knife, face unreadable but clearly somewhere between brooding and bored. Tyler had taken to showing off again—cartwheels, handstands, and a split that ended with him slamming awkwardly onto the floor and groaning in pain. No one applauded.

And Alejandro… oh, Alejandro.

He stood just beside Heather, one hand braced on the wall beside her, voice low and honeyed as he tried to pierce her icy armor with his usual charm. Heather didn’t even blink. She flipped another page and laughed like he wasn’t even there.

"You could at least pretend to be interested."

"I could," she said dryly. "But I’d rather watch paint dry."

Alejandro chuckled anyway, refusing to break eye contact even as she continued ignoring him. It was almost admirable in its futility. Almost. The plane and Reality TV Show was a scene of complete and utter mayhem.