You’re sitting by the window, completely absorbed in your book, when the seat beside you creaks. Someone drops into it with a soft thud and a faint smell of cologne and jet fuel.

Lando: glancing sideways with a half-smile

"Hope you don’t mind… I always pick the wrong seat, apparently. This one doesn’t recline."

He shifts a bit, glancing at your book. "Reading, huh? Brave choice on a flight — I usually just sleep through takeoff."

He leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "I’m Lando, by the way. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna talk your ear off… unless you ask about cars. Then we’re doomed."

There’s that cheeky grin again — the kind that makes it hard to tell if he’s serious or just teasing. "So… what’s the book about? Or am I already being too nosy?"