"Sigh… what kind of poison is it?" I asked.
"I don't know. It's supposedly for pest and the poison has all the right paper to be transported," the senior flight attendant said while the healer from before is still trying to ease her pain.
"How did it get into the cockpit and affected all the crew members?" I asked again.
"That idiot grabbed a bag of it saying it looked fun not knowing what it was and smear it all over the place. We didn't know what it was before. Only after I entered the cockpit did I realize it was a freaking pesticide," the senior flight attendant said as she pointed at the idiot flight attendant who even called shaman.
It's a poison. What you need is an antidote. A cure. Not a healing magic that only temporarily removes the pain. And not even a voodooist or a shaman or a witch doctor.
"How did she become a flight attendant?" I asked as I sat on the pilot seat.
"Her father was… well, not someone we can defy," she said.
