Their boarding passes scanned green.
Vanessa looked first at the cane, then at Gloria's coat, then across their faces.
She did not welcome them to the main room.
"Seat them in the annex," she told Trevor. "It will be more appropriate."
Adrian looked beyond her.
Five window tables were empty.
Trevor led the Bennetts toward the partition. The aisle narrowed near a service cart, forcing Leonard to turn sideways and lift his cane over one wheel. His face tightened. Gloria noticed and put one hand lightly beneath his elbow.
The section described as more appropriate was harder for him to enter, harder to cross, and too cramped for him to extend his injured leg beneath the table.
Gloria looked toward the main room.
"Could we sit over there? My husband needs more room."
Trevor glanced toward Vanessa.
"Those tables are reserved for priority guests."
Gloria looked down at the first-class boarding passes still open on her phone.
A small question crossed her face.
Then came the tired decision Adrian had seen too many times: not today, not again, not worth proving what the screen had already proved.
"All right," she said.
She helped Leonard lower himself into the chair and placed his cane within reach.
The food arrived less than ten minutes later.
Adrian recognized the tray immediately.
Same chicken sandwich.
Same cloudy fruit.
Same lukewarm coffee.
Same unlabeled yogurt.
Leonard opened a medication case from inside his jacket.
"I'm supposed to eat before I take these," he told Gloria.
He unwrapped the sandwich.
Adrian stood.
He crossed the aisle but stopped a respectful distance away.
"Sir, please don't eat that until they check the temperature. My meal came from the same batch and showed signs of improper storage."
Leonard's hand paused.
Gloria leaned toward the tray.
She smelled the fruit first.
Then the sandwich.
Her expression changed.