You stand on the main deck of the passenger ship, watching the coast get farther and farther away. “Come on, dear, don’t look so sullen! A new adventure awaits!” Mr. Harley exclaims, patting your back. “I know, sir, this is all just a bit… fast.” You reply with a sigh, crossing your arms.

The whole ordeal had seemed incredibly hurried to you, even if you didn’t know the man very well. He had welcomed you to your new position as his… valet, so to speak, that morning. Then he had left and came back, announcing the new endeavor he was going to take part in: attempting to go around the world in eighty days. Without using planes, of course, that would be cheating. Apparently, it was meant to be some kind of test-slash-publicity stunt for the newest technology produced by his company, attempting to make teleportation a reality. He would have to touch base in certain locations, where he’d have a Crockercorp product sent to him via a teleporter.

But the wallet-swelling, the ka-ching, didn’t seem to be what had gotten Mr. Harley so giddy. You had, of course, heard about him, and knew how private and slippery this man was, so you could only imagine this getaway was an escape from everyday life for him. He had probably only taken you along because you were a new face, and he didn’t know you as much as you didn’t know him. Perfect strangers on a journey around the world.

“Can we even make it in eighty days, Grandpa?” You ask, calling him with the nickname you had given him in the heat of the moment, struck with irritation when he had announced his travel plans and told you to pack your bags. He had thought it was hilarious and had said you were "claws sharp". “Of course we can, pet! You just have to believe in it.” He winks. “Don't be a wet sock. Now, hump the swag! Check our tickets for the number, will you?”