Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Sorry for disappearing like that... ^.^')

Sapphira nodded.

"Sounds good to me." She paused with a slight blush. "Although I've never had Chinese..."

((And sorry for the near one-liner *gag* but I have to go to a craft store to help my aunt and mom and grandma to find stuff for my aunt's wedding. ^.^'))

Ura was smiling brightly and laugheing when suddenly his eyes went wide and he dropped, his body fell to the ground limply. He was not one for falling asleep right on the spot, but fall asleep he just did. Luckly his body crunpled instead of falling back words or forwords.

"Fascinating. It is no wonder the others fear you so, that and they realize that their feeble imaginings could never produce an end to one of your talents." Vincent began mentally contemplating the limit of Ishmaels secondary dimensional space. And if trapping one of Ishmaels kind within another of his kind would destroy both. Finding his mathematical skills lacking in this area he assigned a few nanites in his left foot to begin computing the information.

The waitress returned with Vincents glass of water and he ordered some toast with marmalade and pancakes...

Maddie smoothed back Ura's wild hair. "He's exhausted, poor thing."

Nightshade carried him to a booth in the Japanese restaurant and stayed with him while Maddie and Sapphira ordered at the counter. They brought back the food; a variety of sushi and veggie rolls, soba noodle bowls, and miso soup for Ura.

________________________________________________

Even though Ishmael hadn't spoken a single word to the waitress, she brought him a bottle of sparkling water and some caviar on flaky biscuits. For a moment, she looked afraid that he might refuse this offering, but Ishmael picked up a biscuit and ate daintily.

"Talents have little to do with it, my lad," Ishmael said softly. "Fact is the Captain carved out my insides for his own purposes. My debt to him is almost paid, and hopefully after these two...replacements have been apprehended, I might live out the rest of my days in quiet, empty solitude." He finished his last bite and gingerly dusted his fingers with the napkin. "Until then, we have work to do. Let's get to that cursed island before we really loose their trail."

Ishmael chuckled at Vincint's naive view of the people of Ireland. "My lad, you have much to learn," he said as they left the table. Ishmael didn't bother to pay or leave a tip. He knew the host would just be thankful the restaurant was still standing. "There is no need for them to alert anyone at their destination. They could show up on any doorstep, and --unless they are insufferably rude--every innkeeper's wife will take them under her wing, especially that boy they have with them. If they are related to anyone, we may well find ourselves facing the whole village armed with pitchforks. What Irish good will doesn't get them, plenty of money will make up for."

Back out at the limo, Ishmael instructed the driver to head back to the airport. Ishmael itched to throttle the life and power out of Vincent. That the youth had received so much from the Captain chaffed. It was only Ishmael's latent terror of his superior that kept his hands in his pockets.

"It's not the gift, my lad," Ishmael replied with a smirk. "It's a pervading sense of community--a leftover attitude from the days when family and clan meant more to people than money or power. It's disgusting. It's not so prevalent in the larger cities like Dublin, but if they take refuge in a town somewhere...those people are always itching for a fight anyway, and add a righteous cause to it and they won't stop until your a bloody pulp floating down a ditch."

They arrived at the airport and Ishmael lead the way onto a large jet. Two flight attendants who could have been models on the cover of Hustler welcomed them. Ishmael treated them with the same cold disdain he gave everyone. Inside, the room was furnished more like a long luxury hotel than any commercial airplane. There were no seat belts, for one thing. For another, there was a carved oak desk, leather recliners, a mini-fridge, and even an x-box system with a 45" LCD TV.

"Do whatever you like to amuse yourself for the trip. If the attendants take a liking to you, well, just don't be rude," Ishmael instructed vaguely. "I am going to take a nap, so I would appreciate it if I wasn't disturbed."

Ura groaned, opened his eyes then blinked. He looked up, his head was being petted, it felt nice. Then he smelled the food and he sat up. "Nandesune?!" he looked at the miso soup and then at Maddie. "Me to?" he asked. Food was making him forget his dream.

Sapphira began eating with a will. She hadn't eaten since the sandwiches at home...

She swallowed and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"So, Ireland. Tell me about it." Sapphira urged Maddie. "I've never been there."