The things they do for adventure. And love. Both. All. He'll think of a better way to put it after he's had some downtime in his own bed.
(He won't. Eloquence is small potatoes anyway.)
Donald, in the true fashion of anyone who doesn't have to be personally responsible for flying a plane, has already dozed off by the time she calls back to him. She doesn't need to try any harder to get his attention, at least. Hard not to sleep lightly when turbulence could happen at any moment.
Does he accept this awakening with grace and dignity? No. In fairness, he doesn't accept most anything with grace and dignity. It's his nature.
"Brothers should get sleeping privileges over old misers," he grouses, like a grouser who grouses about things, regardless of the fact that he's getting up and heading toward the cockpit anyway.
If he unexpectedly stumbles over Scrooge's foot-- if Scrooge's snores somehow seem to turn smug-- well, who can prove there's a correlation there?
"But if it keeps you from flying us into a mountain..." He plops into the co-pilot's seat. "We're not actually close to any mountains, right?"
Not that it wouldn't be an effective, terrifying wake-up call. The seed of genuine concern is there. He's never too tired for that.
Della doesn't look away from the open skies ahead of them for a moment, not through all of it. Flying is pretty much the one thing she can be a responsible young adult about. Still, she definitely smiles as her brother joins her.
"I don't know, Uncle Scrooge might charge me for his company up here," she snickered. "Besides, he needs his old man rest. When we're old and I'm flying us places, you can rest. Maybe by then I'll find an actual co-pilot."
(Or maybe even before then, she'll find an annoyance who crashes her plane a lot! Who can say?)
She snorts, amused, at his concern. "Canyons, not mountains. Canyons are pretty much the opposite of mountains, Donald, we're fine - you know, unless I fall asleep. But now I won't!"
"They'd have to be some co-pilot to put up with you."
(And/or crash her plane all the time. Beggars can't be choosers.)
Donald slumps back in his seat as much as he can, arms crossed. Tired hasn't actually verged over into cranky for him. He can't come up with any reasons to be cranky, which is practically the same thing as being in a genuinely good mood.
Discerning standards: was not eaten by a shaved bear.
"It'll be nice to get home for a while. We could use a break before we go back out and activate an ancient curse."
That's what he has on his adventuring predictions bingo card, anyway.
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The things they do for adventure. And love. Both. All. He'll think of a better way to put it after he's had some downtime in his own bed.
(He won't. Eloquence is small potatoes anyway.)
Donald, in the true fashion of anyone who doesn't have to be personally responsible for flying a plane, has already dozed off by the time she calls back to him. She doesn't need to try any harder to get his attention, at least. Hard not to sleep lightly when turbulence could happen at any moment.
Does he accept this awakening with grace and dignity? No. In fairness, he doesn't accept most anything with grace and dignity. It's his nature.
"Brothers should get sleeping privileges over old misers," he grouses, like a grouser who grouses about things, regardless of the fact that he's getting up and heading toward the cockpit anyway.
If he unexpectedly stumbles over Scrooge's foot-- if Scrooge's snores somehow seem to turn smug-- well, who can prove there's a correlation there?
"But if it keeps you from flying us into a mountain..." He plops into the co-pilot's seat. "We're not actually close to any mountains, right?"
Not that it wouldn't be an effective, terrifying wake-up call. The seed of genuine concern is there. He's never too tired for that.
no subject
"I don't know, Uncle Scrooge might charge me for his company up here," she snickered. "Besides, he needs his old man rest. When we're old and I'm flying us places, you can rest. Maybe by then I'll find an actual co-pilot."
(Or maybe even before then, she'll find an annoyance who crashes her plane a lot! Who can say?)
She snorts, amused, at his concern. "Canyons, not mountains. Canyons are pretty much the opposite of mountains, Donald, we're fine - you know, unless I fall asleep. But now I won't!"
no subject
(And/or crash her plane all the time. Beggars can't be choosers.)
Donald slumps back in his seat as much as he can, arms crossed. Tired hasn't actually verged over into cranky for him. He can't come up with any reasons to be cranky, which is practically the same thing as being in a genuinely good mood.
Discerning standards: was not eaten by a shaved bear.
"It'll be nice to get home for a while. We could use a break before we go back out and activate an ancient curse."
That's what he has on his adventuring predictions bingo card, anyway.
no subject
She almost looked away from the skyline then, though. She managed not to, but... Man, how exactly were the two of them twins?
"Why would you want a break? The downtime is the worst part of an adventure!"
It wasn't news, she was sure. She was always itching to get out into the world again after they went back, but she felt it was worth pointing out.