The landing gear screeched against the tarmac, the cabin shaking slightly as the jet touched down in the dull grey gloom of London. Rain had fallen not long ago - Isaac could tell by the slick sheen on the runway and the mist clinging to the air.
Sven stretched, his bottle still in hand, and gave a loud yawn. "Would've been nice to have one of Nadya's hangover patches right about now," he muttered, tipping back the bottle for one last drink.
Isaac sighed. "You were supposed to stop drinking before we landed."
"Don't wanna waste good liquor," Sven shrugged, his voice slightly slurred but somehow still annoyingly confident.
Takeshi said nothing, tightening the belt of his sword sheath before standing. His expression was calm, but alert, as if expecting enemies rather than a welcome party.
