Miranda glanced over at the casting sheet for First Class to 
Geneva. She'd be pissed if this Mr. Oremland got overly talkative and 
forced her to pass on the bigger role. Though he did seem a reasonably clever 
sort. "You know, it's a fine time to visit Atlantan West Africa, and the 
airship Gold Coast is scheduled to depart in two weeks—shall I 
book a stateroom for you? And a companion perhaps?"