The airport was busy, and Svart's head pounded. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as the passport control vigorously pumped his hand to "welcome him to America, sir".
He picked up his luggage, and dragged it through the throng of people to the arrivals gate. He hated flying. He couldn't sleep, and he couldn't move. He couldn't even teleport, in case he ended up outside the plane. It hadn't been a short flight, and the kid behind his seat was crying and screaming and above all kicking.
So many people here. All holding signs and shouting. People were embracing, crying, laughing. He strained his eyes to spot the "Aether Academy" sign.
There! A short man in a suit, with a bluetooth earpiece and little sign. How Svart had heard him over the roar was beyond him.
The man smiled broadly, and shook Svart's hand (Is everyone in America obsessed with hand shaking?). The hair was dark and limp, and Svart highly suspected a wig. There were enough lines on the face to justi