Get your dirty hands off that seat. Jessica Morrison's voice cut like a blade. She yanked Robert Hayes backward by his collar. I'm sorry, ma'am. This is my seat. Your seat? She laughed in his face.
Look at you. Smell you. This is business class for real people, not trash. I paid for this ticket, ma'am. Liar. She snatched his wallet, threw it down the aisle. Probably stole it like everything else your kind steals.
Robert bent to retrieve it. His hands shook. She grabbed his face. Her palm exploded across his mouth. Blood sprayed. His glasses shattered on the floor.
