((OOC)) “You sure it’ll fly?” “I fixed it up; it’ll run as well as it did before – if not better.” “Well, you’re the engineer…” Clambering into the cockpit of the plane, Adam Johnson adjusted his flight goggles just-so, the anticipation of yet another run in the air kicking in. No laws restricting citizens from flying had been put in place at that point in time – though it affected criminals and those with incapacitating conditions, if you could fly it competently and were above sixteen, the Anderlian government allowed you to own – and pilot – an aircraft. Yes, there were restrictions in place, but none that prevented flight. The model utilised by Adam was a Sputterflare – a newer version of a model used in the war, its weapons systems had since been de-activated, and were now about as much use as throwing a pebble at a rampaging hippo. "Oh, come to think of it, you should probably take Clara with you. God only knows what could happen, and face it, you couldn't use a spanner unless it was for poking someone in the eye." Pausing as he clambered into the cockpit, Adam looked to his father. it was a good thing he had his flight hat and goggles on - had his eyes and eyebrows been visible, he feared both his father and Clara would take offence, in some form or other. Thus, he simply shrugged, knowing there was no way out of it. It was not that he particularly hated her company, that much had been established while she was employed - in fact, both Johnsons found she was a pleasant person to have. No, it was simply that it was a routine shopping trip, and there should have been no need for an engineer to accompany him, and was rather insulted as a result. "All right then. Come on, the passenger seat won't fill itself."