>>5505819<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">"Money don't get everything it's true"</span></span>
She was obviously pulling your leg, but didn't care to stop. Bobbing along to the music the lady would have to be deaf, blind and dumb to not notice you were South African, your copper sun kissed skin and fair sandy hair framed deep blue eyes. Eyes that match her own jovial pair with stoic seriousness. A trick to passing through any form of security was pretending you belong, believing that you belong also helped when it could. "Frank McCallum?" She gives you a sly look. "You need to practice the Scottish accent… Well Frankie, you must know the right people to pull such a convincing counterfeit. I've seen what some of these others are strolling in on and I doubt half this flight is getting cleared." Leaning back into her seat she flicks through the pages, examining each intently.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">"What it don't get, I can't use"</span></span>
"Darling, everyone calls me Fritz." For a fraction of a thought you attempt a Scottish accent before halting. Then without prompting she pulled free her own identification, it was all held within a small clear rectangular folder. She tosses it into your lap, knocking the ash snake from your glowing stick. The grin never leaves her face as she lights her own cigarette. "Military type. Friends in the right places. Maybe even family, right? Bush War! Makes sense. You all fall into the same shade."
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">"I want money."</span></span>
