Grissom Montag had a brain for planning, but even the best schemes stray. He had not predicted that he would be in one of the fastest planes on the planet with a motley group that had broken into his house only to demand passage to Germany. He leaned over to the fridge, pulled out a chilled glass, and proceeded to pour himself a single glass of wine in front of the others. "What do you daft buggers expect to find in Munich, anyways?"
Lykopis could only shrug. "Answers, really. Something very important has been taken away from us."
She wanted to be very careful with her words. There was no privacy in this cabin, so there was no way for them to avoid Montag for very long. On the other hand, communication had to begin eventually. It was just a matter of balancing what Montag needed to know in order to help them.
Lucky for the team, Lykopis's tanned legs, dark hair, and regal bearing did give her an advantage over Montag that the others didn't. She rearranged her legs and brushed a loose strand of hair back. "That is a 1899, is it not? From the Orvieto vineyard, judging by the color. You were right about stocking the plane with only the best." She paused a moment to make sure he was listening. "I think I have about eight bottles left after last year's Midsummer's Ball."
It worked. Montag pulled out a second chilled glass and poured for Lykopis. "You have a good eye for the finer things in life. So what's a high-class mynx like you hanging around with characters like these?"
Lykopis took a sip before answering. "I ask myself that all the time." She set the glass down in front of Ozzy. Lucky for him, Montag was too distracted to notice. "So, this Prometheus...you have met this man?"
"That uppity little git. I don't know how he got into my office." He took another sip. "I still think you're on his payroll, you sneaky tart." Lykopis frowned. Looks like Montag was being just as cautious as she was. "What, did you expect me to warm up to a little high-class flirting? You're no Vivian-fecking-Leigh, so stop with the simple charm and get to the fecking business."
Oh, I wonder what sort of noise you'd make if I kicked you down south! Still, a lady must keep her cool. Lykopis looked towards the cockpit, where Phil was seated with Icarus. Like Phil, she had her doubts on Prometheus. "I am sorry you think that way. He has made contact with us, yes."
"Lyly," said Ozzy, leaning towards her. Lykopis was fraternizing with a possible threat, and that was making the plane ride even worse.
"We need answers from him," she said softly. She turned towards Montag. "And like it or not, you need answers from us."
Victor and Grimm shifted in their seats at the same time, reminding Montag of who was in charge. He seemed insulted at the very idea of these characters in his private jet. "Alright, fair enough, lass. Prometheus approached me recently. Gave me some sort of coded message that I don't understand." He tapped on a pocket, where the paper was folded and safe. "So what's your story?"
