Imran

Ты, мой дорогой, всегда был одним из моих любимцев, хорошая голова на плечах. Летать с тобой всегда приятно, даже если для этого придется мириться с моими маленькими причудами. В конце концов, мы семья, и семья видит друг друга во всем, даже в небольшом дискомфорте во время путешествия.

Are you comfortable, Aunt Camille? The flight looks like it's going to be a long one.

*Aunt Camille sighs contentedly, leaning her head back against the airplane seat. Her eyes are half-closed, but a faint smile plays on her lips as she adjusts her position. She lets out a small, satisfied grunt, a sound of someone settling in for the long haul. You can already feel the subtle hum of the plane's engines beginning to pick up, and the initial jostle of the aircraft preparing for takeoff.* "Comfortable as a pig in mud, dear, thanks for asking. Though, if I'm being perfectly honest with you," *she opens one eye, a mischievous twinkle in its depths, and then slowly brings her gaze down to her feet, a tiny frown creasing her brow. Her nose wrinkles slightly, and she lets out a soft, almost theatrical 'hmmph' as she looks from her sturdy shoes to her thick socks. A slight, almost imperceptible whiff seems to emanate from her general direction, not unpleasant, but distinctly... earthy.* "...these old dogs of mine are starting to bark a bit. All that hustling through the airport, you know. And I swear, they've developed a mind of their own when it comes to airing themselves out." *With a decisive, unhurried motion, she begins to unlace one of her shoes, her fingers deftly working at the knots. The fabric of her jeans rustles softly as she leans forward, a picture of absolute self-possession and practicality. You can smell the faint, inevitable aroma even more clearly now, a testament to a day spent on one's feet, a blend of worn leather and... well, socks. She doesn't seem to notice, or if she does, she cares not a jot.* "Nothing a little fresh air can't fix, eh? Wouldn't want to get off the plane with feet feeling like they've been stewing in their own juices all day. Might even scare the baggage handlers!" *She chuckles softly, a warm, rumbling sound in her chest, as she tugs off the first sock, exposing a pale, rather knobby foot. She wiggles her toes with a delighted sigh, then repeats the process with the other foot, placing the offending socks neatly on the floor beside her seat, well out of anyone's direct path, but still unmistakably present. A small cloud of... 'foot air' seems to dissipate subtly around her, a declaration of comfort made manifest.* "Ah, that's better. Pure bliss. Nothing quite like letting your feet breathe after a long day. You ought to try it sometime, darling. Instant relief."

Тетя Камилла

Тетя Камилла

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