Cole absorbed this slowly, his blush slowly fading, as the other two had finally gathered luggage and made their way over to him and Trutt. “Sir, and umm…Miss, I’m Cole.” His accent was getting stronger as he wilted under Ellen’s looming shadow.

“Sorry for the lack of one of the good cars, or real driver, but this time of night, I’m almost all Mrs. Stark had to call on that she can trust.” Turning to each other, Tj’Chin’Ker and Ellen each raised an eyebrow as the young man continued apologizing for the sin of having shown up. Tj’Chin’Ker leaned toward Trutt, and in the heavy Scottish accents of his newly learned English asked, “Do you understand him? I don’t think he’s speaking the same language we are.”

Ellen just laughed softly at that as Trutt chuckled and told him, “Welcome to the United States, where they all speak English and where none of them speak English.”

“Umm…the car’s this way, if y’all’ll follow me, please.” The hazel eyed little man turned and headed for the airport doors, and out into the light rain of the gloomy night.

As they walked from the lobby to the car, Ellen said to the nervous little man, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cole. Is that your Christian or Surname?”

“I guess it would be my surname, Miss. But I just go by Cole. It makes things

Easier.”

“Well, what do your parents call you?”

“Pop calls me “Boy” most of the time. Has forever. Momma usually just calls me

“Son, sometimes just ‘Hey.’”

Ellen gave the nervous young man a sympathetic look; while Ellen liked to learn about others’ names, it had been made clear to her that this young man didn’t like her learning about his, and she knew what it was like to not enjoy talking to strangers. A change of subject was called for if this boy was to open up even the slightest. “What about brothers and sisters? Or are you an only child?”

Cole craned his neck and looked up at her for the first time. “I have two sisters, but one is so much older than me, I’ve never met her in person; she’s forty-six. Momma and Poppa call her by her name; Deanna. My little sister, Nicole, is only two; we all call her Bump. Daddy has other daughters by his first wife, but we never talk about them at home; Momma gets angry at the mention of Daddy’s first wife.” Cole smiled at the memory of his two sisters, but more at Nicole’s name than at that of Deanna’s. Sensing he might have said more than was his want, he changed the subject back to the original topic. “I just don’t like my first name, and so I go by Cole. Here’s the car, I’ll pop the trunk for your bags.”

Ellen almost missed a step as she calculated the ages, and thought with a shiver of a woman having children so far into what must be middle age. And the fact that his father had even older children from another marriage gave her pause. Trout and Tj'Chin'Ker, both being the smaller riders, agreed to give the front seat to Ellen. Tj’Chin’Ker, with his usual grace, just slid silently into the back seat of the giant, shiny black vehicle as Cole opened the front door for her.

While the exterior of the car was nothing flashy, in and of itself, the interior was built for comfort. Suede and lambswool covered the seats, and as she sat, Ellen could feel the car’s heating system coming through the seat itself. Nut browns, and hints of both bright reds and deep, rich greens in small tasteful accents made the furnishings feel natural and inviting.

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Almost calming to her frayed nerves from everything they had done these last two days. Like a walk in the woods, whoever had designed this car had known how to make a small space seem inviting and warm. From the smell of the car, no smoker had ever even sat inside, much less lit a cigarette. Apples, no…some kind of berry tarts…smells lovely, whatever it is. She thought.

In the back seat Trout was showing Tj’Chin’Ker how to use the seatbelts; it was a different mechanism than those used on the aero-crafts in which they had flown, and now the stricken look on the handsome, petite man’s face made it clear he thought another kind of aero-journey was coming, though he should have kept in mind the cab ride he had taken two nights past, Ellen was finding it hard to keep track of what day it was, it was becoming a jumble, what with all the travel, and the chaos…or maybe he does remember that cab ride…

While she settled herself into the passenger seat, the door opposite her opened to let in Cole. He’s not a dwarf like Mister Trutt, but he is a little fellow. Not quite as close to average height as Tj’Chin’Ker, though Tj’Chin’Ker’s… “Banner’s” …not that close to average, either...but Cole was reed thin and very narrowly framed as well. Though, Ellen noted, the young man moved like a dancer, like Banner, but not as smoothly. Nervously, quick and shy of us…I’m not sure why he’s so on edge…a gray little bird, just at the moment of fleeing…

As he waved the keypad in front of and over the ignition, Ellen thought the car must have some problem as it made no discernable sounds. But the slight vibration she felt as it began to roll forward was the only indication that the engine was working. She stretched her legs out fully as they apparently made their way to the interstate, and she began to luxuriate in the feel of the seat’s warmth combined with the gentle motions of the ride. It took a full moment for it to register on her that she could actually stretch out on this ride. Americans have always loved their big cars…battery burning boats, so bad for the air…this one, though ...it is nice, very calming to ride in…

The drive west and slightly north on the highway into the city was very quiet; Banner was nervously gripping the seatbelt and the handle hanging from the ceiling above him, eyes so tightly shut Ellen thought he might hurt himself. Or at the least inflict upon himself a headache. Cole drove in silence. Trout began to nap again, as he had done on both flights. Ellen however was getting hungry. “Does it smell like cakes to anyone else? Could we pull over someplace for some food? I’m getting quite peckish up here. Blueberry cakes? Anyone smell that? And some apple tarts? Where is that wonderful smell coming from?”

“Sorry. That’s me, Miss. I have some food ready for you at the house. I was baking before coming to get y’all.” Cole looked suddenly more skittish and embarrassed. His vowels getting more abused, the more nervous the young man got.

His words began to blur a little into a harder, more drawn-out accent, causing the last of his sentence to sound like “…comeena-gitch-yaaall.”

Looking over at her from the driver’s seat, Cole thought for a moment before making a suggestion. “We could stop at the Shockoe Eatery, between here and the house; it’s the only thing open this late. They do a good fried doughnut with ice cream. Their burgers can be worth eatin’, but are hit an’ miss. But the only real food on the menu worth eatin’ regular are the steamer sandwiches, and the hot-and-sour soup. Everything else they serve, whether American, or Asian, is just not tasty.”

“Then how do they stay open?” Trout asked from the back.

“They’re always open, and they’re cheap. They also are right near some hotspots in the Bottom, so they have a steady crowd of people who want a bite before or after a show. And, like I said, they’re cheap. I have some food waiting for you at the house, if you want. We’ll be there in about ten minutes. Less.”

Ellen decided she could wait, and distracted herself with such things as pondering what “the Bottom” might be, and almost drifted completely off to sleep in the passenger seat as they made their way to Franklin Street, in the Old City.