"I've never had that," she says, glancing at him. His face is near to hers, handsome under the moonslight, but she doesn't so much as breathe in his direction. "When I fly -- they're beautiful. They're like -- living creatures, organic." She smiles quietly, to herself. "I always half-expect them to start breathing."

She shakes her head, and looks to the sky again. "But I've only ever flown recreationally, and not to far-off places."