The door doesn't move. “Oh hurry up Jen,” comes Trisha’s voice from the other side. That gives you a few minutes at most you figure, so you move quickly and start stripping the real Jen. You breath a sigh of relief... and then disaster strikes.
You step back trying to gather your thoughts, and fall over the prone Jen. You can't muffle your surprised yelp in Jen's voice as you tumble back, or the hard thud as you hit the floor. Panic-stricken, Jen's eyes - your eyes - look desperately at the door.
"Jen?" Trisha's voice echoes. Hastily you wrap your cloak around her, backing up and watching as the younger flight attendant bursts through the door, and looks in shock and surprise at her colleague, unconscious on the floor. "Jen? JEN!" She bends over the body, furiously tapping her cheeks. Then the panic fades, and Trisha's training takes over. Instantly she's working her way through her first aid training, checking her breathing, her pulse. You stand back in quiet horror, still wearing Jen's face, awash with her thoughts.
You've ruined her career. It's all over. Your one action has destroyed her life.
You blink at the realisation as you watch Trisha's desperate attempts to help her colleague. You feel existential, like a ghost of Jen in an out of body experience. Flight attendants aren't allowed to fly if they have a history of fits or seizures. Jen's fainting spell - as it's going to be remembered - is a black mark against her career. There's no way she'll be able to explain what happened, because she doesn't know. She's going to be grounded for life, having lost her job. She's not going to be able to pay the rent with her flatmate. She's never going to find a rich husband who... you shake your head. You don't have time to think about this.
You look at Trisha. It's tempting to use a sigil on her, too, but that's the last thing you can do in an airport; it's only going to cause panic. One person unconscious is a medical emergency. Two is a terrorist alert.
You slip through the door, back into the corridor. You need to get out of here before all hell breaks loose, but now you're trapped. You're back in the corridor again, with all its unpredictable through traffic, and the effort it takes to use the cloak is exhausting you. You've got to get out of here, you realise. You edge out, casting desperate looks in either direction.
Suddenly you're aware of noise behind you. Trisha is calling for help. Of course she is. You don't know where people are going to come from, and you doubt you could raise your cloak even if you did. You're exhausted, drained completely. You decide to take your chance. Shifting your imago back to your own form, you rush through the door opposite, unsure where it will take you.
You close the door, and, with relief, realise the room is pitch black. The lights are off, and that means nobody's home. You slump down against the door, letting your body slump to the floor. Behind you can hear people talking to each other, yelling with concern. No doubt they're rushing to Jen's aid, trying to revive her. It's going to be chaotic, you know. That could be an opportunity to slip away.
You stand up and turn the lights on, deciding to risk it. A momentary flash blinds you, before your eyes adjust. You're in what looks like a janitor's office. There's a bunch of boiler suits with names on them, and trolleys containing various cleaning fluids and chemicals. Behind them metal shelves contain row upon row of different colored bottles of bleach. You blow out your cheeks, and form a plan.
*****
Ten minutes later you leave the room. The EMTs are in attendance and the corridor is busy, but nobody pays you any attention as she turns out of the room, pushing a cart, and heads toward the general concourse. Without drawing any attention, you press the exit button and slips out of the secure area, and out into the crowds.
You feel bad about using Kali's imago for this, but she's the only one who wouldn't draw attention. Despite her looks, she is the only person whose face you have who looks old enough to be a custodian. It also puts paid to your plans with Rick. There's no way you can chance being spotted in departures with the face of Kali Valentine, and that means you're heading back to LA.
It's easy enough to lose the trolley, and then you're heading to the carpark to collect Rick's ride. It's still a crappy piece of junk, but at least that suits your current disguise as a janitor. You start the engine and groan inside at the throttled gargle emanating from the engine. This is going to suck. Not only do you have to nurse this heap of junk back to Kali's, but you'll have to suffer Miko until Rick gets back.
You stall the engine in its space, and bounce in your seat, wondering why the hell Rick drives stick anyway. "Gracious," you groan in Kali's voice, shaking your head at how weird that sounds.
The pause, though, gives you time to think. You try and remember exactly what Rick said. Miko will take care of you. He never told you that you had to accept. It was more of an option. You drum your fingers on the dash and consider your options.
You could head back and see Miko. She was lightening up to you, you thought. She still wasn't ideal, but you passed off your impersonation of Kali successfully, and her tips with your cloak were actually constructive. It could be interesting training. Chances are she'd have you continue to impersonate Kali until the real Kali returns.
But Miko is still an enigma, entirely closed up and sealed. You remember Kali mentioning that Miko was a consultant on her design project, but you're not sure if you can recall what Miko actually does during her long days absent. Rick probably knows, but you wonder if you could impress him by finding out more. Despite reading her story as written by Kali, there's much you don't know.
A dangerous thought pops into your mind. Dangerous because it involves Miko, and she carries a magic sword and can probably kill you in a second if she wanted. But it would be an ideal test of your skills if you could pull it off... and you think it would impress Rick.
You remember your American history, back in Saratoga Falls. American Indians used to count coup - risking their life to touch their opponent. You wonder if you could do something similar to Miko. You wonder how many times you could meet her, having borrowed someone else's identity, without being caught. If she catches you, she'll kill you - or perhaps just have a screaming fit. But if you could pull it off, maybe Rick will start trusting you enough and your abilities to let you go to Europe, or on a mission...
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