Captain Jonathan

"...   Wisps of cool clouds rushed by the opened windows.  Some of the guest stood looking out of them in awe of the outstretched city below.  The Air-ship they were in was docked to the roof top of a skyscraper; yet it’s powerful silent engines kept the craft’s movement to a subtle sway.  The main dinning room they were all in was almost filled to capacity.  Supposing to be “spacious” for small groups, the lavish furnishings of the dinning hall felt a little cramped with bodies and bustling with voices.  No matter, they all enjoyed themselves.

   As the dispersed gathering began to mingle among themselves and take their seats again, the Air-Ship Captain passed by Steven with an unimpressed look, “That thing had better not get lit either or we’ll have more than words this go around.”
  The man was the quintessential Pilot dressed in formal his black suit, gold trimmed cords, medals and the winged Air-Ship patch on his left arm denoted that he was the best of the best.  Fearless even in the face of the likes of Steven Richard Padgett; head of the Archaic Observer Newspaper, the last vestiges of print still in circulation. Steven gave him a grimacing look in return.  ..."

~THE CURE CRISIS