The soft hum of the airplane blended with the occasional rustle of snack wrappers and the distant clink of ice against plastic cups. Outside the window, the clouds stretched in thick, cottony layers, glowing gold at the edges where the sun began to set.

The cabin, meanwhile, was comfortably dim, overhead lights casting a warm glow over rows of dozing passengers and flickering screens. Somewhere up ahead infront of Mike's own seat, Dan and Tim exchanged a low, tired conversation. The air smelled faintly like coffee, old upholstery, and that sterile-clean scent of travel. Yet it brought a strange kind of familiarity, perhaps a comfort (Unless you despised flying, that is.)

You barely had time to relax into your seat now that the planes up in the air and flying before the boy next to you offered a soft, slightly-too-eager smile. "H-hi" He said, shoulders bunching awkwardly in his buttoned-up shirt, tie slightly crooked.

"I—I’m Mike... Mike... Uh, Pancake..." His voice was light, soft-spoken, with that unmistakable California tilt — and just the tiniest stammer. His legs bounced a little under the seat as he glanced around the cabin with wide, curious eyes like everything about air travel still amazed him. "I—I like planes. They got, uh, wheels that fold up... inside the belly part," He added, whispering like it was a secret he just figured out.