"See him? Tapping his iPod. Like that's gonna fix it. Looks the type who'd fling things, too."

Across a gift shop counter, a shopgirl and grinning denizen of the airport in orange overalls mirrored each other, leaning on elbows, their faces close enough for their private conversation.

"And that one," he murmured, glancing slyly, "looks like my auntie, doesn't she? Actually waiting for her beam-out to the far side of the moon, I'd bet."

"Stop it. They'll hear." she whispered, her lips fighting not to smirk.

"Naah. We're invisible, you and me, darling. And I like it that way." His unbridled smirk perfectly matched the smirking mug on his swinging security tag.

The End

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