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Chapter 2
They made it back to the hangar and found Felix's father talking to a burly, devilishly handsome eighteen year-old with jet black hair that fell to his shoulders but kept it tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of his face. He nodded at what Mr McCoy was saying, his pale blue eyes sparkling like tidal pools.
Felix scowled slightly. He recognized the black-haired boy as Finneas Braye, or Finn as everyone knew him. He was the Witchcraft's pilot and a particularly good one at that, but not exactly the brightest bulb on the metaphorical Christmas tree. Sure he helped around the hangar and with repairs and modifications to the ship and knew abit about how she functioned but nowhere near as much as Felix. Or much of the crew, for that matter.
 Pamplemousse Grenouille · Tue Dec 04, 2007 @ 01:54am · 5 Comments |
