"You're going to WHAT?" Micah's self-control deserted him and flung itself off the plane. He longed to join it.
"SHHHHH!" chorused several passengers around them, all glaring at him like he was fresh dog excrement stuck to the bottom of their patent leather shoes.
Seo-ah was glowering at him too. If looks could kill via telekinetic daggers then, well, Micah would be the next Julius Caesar.
Avery—damn him to hell and back—had joined the other passengers' outrage and was busy pretending he was not acquainted with his own husband. With his hand on his chest and his mouth agape, he looked like he was possessed by the pearl-clutching ghost of a grandmother who could excuse gay marriage but drew the line at interracial unions.
Micah took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, eyed the passengers unflinchingly, and squeaked, "Sorry!" before sinking back into his seat.
The other passengers would not be completely appeased with anything short of turning back time. Micah's apology was nowhere close to that, but this was also too minor an issue to harp on unless someone wanted to replace him as the next public nuisance.
Some tutted, some sighed, some tsked, but all went back to doing whatever they had been doing before Micah disturbed the peace.
It's lunchtime anyways, and no one was willing to let him get between them and their piping hot food. The air stewardess Avery had annoyed earlier made her way down the aisle, serving duck confit, lobster thermidor, and seared barramundi.
When she approached their row, Micah could swear that she raised her nose—ever so slightly—in contempt. "Did you see that?" he whispered.
"See what?" was Avery's distracted response.
"Never mind." If Avery didn't see it, Micah didn't want to explain himself and risk looking like an oversensitive bitch. The air stewardess was already talking to Seo-ah like they're old friends.
"Oh, okay then." Avery turned his attention back to his duck confit, using his fork to break off bits of meltingly tender meat with almost no effort. The juicy, flavorful duck leg looked eyelessly but invitingly at Micah, as if murmuring, "Well, what are you waiting for? Eat me already." He was fascinated, charmed, hypnoti—
"Wait, no, not okay." He shook his head to clear it.
"No?"
"No!" Micah shot a furtive look at Seo-ah and saw that she was eating her salad, apparently unswayed by the beautiful golden-brown cheese crust of her lobster thermidor. Her movements were almost mechanical and her expression strangely detached. She seemed preoccupied, most likely with Zade.
Which meant that she wouldn't be paying attention to them. Micah was relieved, but not ready to completely lower his guard. He leaned towards Avery and whispered, "How can you still have an appetite after hearing what she said?"
"Because this poor duck is delicious, that's how. I am not letting its life—and the chef's efforts—go to waste just because I heard something silly. It lived a good life, but it died an even better death. May it rest in peace."
Micah wondered—briefly but seriously—if a murder charge was really that awful. "Silly? How's that silly? 'We are going to abandon this corrupt and complicit world and create a new one' is not silly, it's the motto of all doomsday cults."
"Ehhh well, that is true, but that does not mean anyone with a superficial resemblance to the crazy behavior of cultists is also a cultist."
"Are you seriously telling me that part of Zade's fan base is not a cult?"
Avery laughed. "They do identify as a cult. If my information is up-to-date—and I have reason to think it is—they call themselves Zade's Brides. It has a nice ring to it. They claim they communicate with Zade by astral projection."
"You're not helping your case. You're literally not helping your case."
"Oh come on! Untwist your boxers. She is harmless!"
"How?!"
"She is harmless," Avery insisted. "Just a poor soul—likely friendless, prospectless, and hopeless in real life—who got sucked too deep into an echo chamber filled with other lost lambs."
"Do you," Micah demanded through gritted teeth, "see how this sort of extreme isolation from the rest of the world may be a bad thing?"
"Of course. But these sort of people tend to be teen girls, young women, or middle-aged housewives trapped at home. Do you know what the commonality is? They are powerless and they know it. They feel it keenly. That is why they seek to reclaim some sense of control by indulging in make-believe."
"Your point being?"
"Dearest, you really regard the world in such a poisonous way," Avery commented with a sad smile.
Micah flinched as if accused. "That does not answer my question," he retorted stiffly.
Avery sighed, the smile still lingering on his lips. "My point is that these fans are powerless in real life. No amount of daydreaming can change that. It is just harmless escapism. Sure, it is damaging to the few remaining relationships they have. Sure, it keeps them from being productive members of society. But at the end of the day, it is just escapism. It does not miraculously give them the power or ability to actually rebuild society from scratch."
"You're… you're naïve. Shockingly so."
"Am I?" Avery asked in the same sad, indulgent tone. "Then enlighten me."
Micah swallowed, his eyes darting towards Seo-ah again out of nervousness—she was still nibbling on her salad, her main dish still untouched. He knew he had been too abrasive. Avery's continued patience felt like reproach. The nicer Avery was, the worse Micah seemed.
"You're not wrong," he conceded, hoping that would suffice as an olive branch. "They do not have the power to do that. But… but it doesn't mean they won't try."
"Ahhh. I see what you mean."
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your cabin chief speaking. We have subdued the pilots. Flight BGV 115 will now be heading to its real destination."
"They have a bomb!" interrupted a male voice that was quickly silenced.
"We do have a bomb," confirmed the hijacker. "However, this is not a terrorist attack. To the few passengers who are not aware of Flight BGV 115's true mission, I sincerely apologize for the distress and inconvenience caused. We have no reason to harm you, so please don't give us one. As for my sister-wives, I trust that you will find the rest of the journey... fulfilling."