Chapter 3
By the time Jim was studying the breakfast menu, Sherlock finally finished his latte which had quickly been forgotten about once their last discussion had started. Unfortunately he couldn’t deny that the drink had been quite nice.
“Are you an egg-guy? I feel like you’re the type who’s fine with soggy cornflakes for some reason.” Jim’s voice distracted him from the now empty glass in front of him.
“I don’t usually eat breakfast.” It occurred to him that this might have been the first time he’d simply answered the criminal’s question rather than arguing about it first.
“That’s fair, me neither. Mostly when I’m at a hotel where they bring it to your doorstep and you don’t have to put in the work. Croissant with butter though? Always good.” Sherlock watched the criminal read through the menu for a few seconds before picking up his own. The selection was surprisingly large considering the fact they were on an airplane.
“Champagne breakfast, really?” He commented mostly to himself.
“Sounds like a headache waiting to happen. They don’t even have cornflakes on this menu.” Jim frowned.
“I don’t mind. Must have been years since I’ve had cornflakes. Toast will be fine I suppose.” He looked over to the criminal who was raising an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything for once. When someone returned to take their order, both he and Jim asked for some tea along with toast and croissants. Considering that Sherlock overheard several people ask for fried eggs, waffles or the champagne breakfast, he felt that perhaps he and Jim were indeed not the biggest breakfast enthusiasts.
“It wasn’t an insult by the way, there’s nothing wrong with cornflakes– on the contrary. Though I wouldn’t choose to eat them when they’re soggy if it can be helped.” The criminal mused while scrolling through the entertainment system, apparently still looking for some kind of distraction.
“Are you telling me the Great Jim Moriarty spends his mornings sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of children’s cereal?” The stereotypical picture of the criminal watching cartoons in colourful pyjamas was very amusing.
“Uh, no. I’m saying that it’s not a bad idea to have some at home just in case you get home late and want to eat something before going to sleep. Plain ones with some chocolate bits, none of that ridiculously coloured American crap they advertise to children.” Against all reason, Sherlock made sure to file away all of these details to his mind palace for later inspection. Now that he had been sitting next to the consulting criminal for an hour, it was sinking in that the other man must also have a life outside of orchestrating crimes. Even Jim Moriarty would need to eat and sleep and he most likely wasn’t wearing a tailored suit all-day everyday either. Sherlock gave it a bit more thought; did Jim have a silky dark blue pyjama packed in his suitcase? Or would he be the type who slept in any kind of old t-shirt and sweatpants that he still had lying around? At that moment it occurred to Sherlock that, just like him, Jim might also be the type who didn’t really bother all that much and just got undressed before falling into bed. The thought was quickly pushed aside when a breakfast tray was placed on the table in front of him. He shook his head, trying to refocus since he really had no good reason to think about Moriarty slowly shrugging out of his button-up before crawling into bed. Perhaps the dry air in the plane was starting to get to him. Either that or there had been something in that mint candy after all.
“Are you sure you just want that toast?” The criminal gave his plate a pitiful look.
“Nothing wrong with toast. There’s jam too.” He considered whether he even liked strawberry jam. Mrs Hudson did occasionally put jam on his toast from what he remembered, but he couldn't be sure what kind.
“Yes, but… Taste this.” Jim was holding out a piece of croissant that he’d put butter on just seconds ago.
“I’m fine, there’s really no need–” Before he could protest further, the criminal had managed to push the piece of pastry into his mouth. Sherlock did his best to look annoyed while also making sure he wasn’t going to accidentally swallow the whole piece at once. It did actually taste nice. The croissant was still warm and the thin layer of butter only made it more delicious.
“Yeeeah we’re going to order two more of these.” Jim said, looking rather happy with himself before waving down a member of the cabin crew. As much as Sherlock would have liked to shove the criminal out of his seat and tell him how wrong he was, he didn’t want to risk not getting any more croissants. The next few minutes passed without any further incidents since they both ate quietly. Jim did have a rather annoying smile on his lips every time Sherlock looked over at him, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as unwanted comments and questions.
“So… You’re sure you don’t want to play anything? I have a few things on my tablet…” Jim suggested the second Sherlock had folded his napkin and put it back on the tray in front of him.
“Considering you didn’t know that I was going to be here, what was your plan to kill time on this flight?” He somehow didn’t believe that Jim would be so chatty if he were sitting next to a stranger.
“Was going to take a nap, but I’m not going to sleep if I have the opportunity to talk to you. What was yours?”
“Going into my mind palace, but I am not doing that when–” He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps admitting that he didn’t trust Moriarty was the wrong move. Either way, he was definitely not going to close his eyes for any longer than it took to blink while that man was anywhere near him. So what if he’d found a way to make the universe sound mildly interesting? That didn’t change anything about who he was dealing with here. Though keeping in mind that they were going to take over eight hours until they arrived in Seattle, it might not be the worst idea to play some sort of game. At least this time it was unlikely that anyone would die in the process.
“What kind of games?” He asked, regretting it almost instantly.
“Ooh, all kinds of things. Chess, Monopoly, Clue, some card games– I’d suggest strip poker, but I’m afraid someone would complain if you started taking your pants off.”
“I wouldn’t take my pants off, I would win.” Sherlock said without hesitation and was quite glad that it couldn’t be put to the test.
“I might let you.” Jim gave him the sort of relaxed smile that made Sherlock want to strangle him. It wasn’t just that the criminal was smiling at him, it was the fact that he could make all these threats and jokes and be so casual about it. Sherlock had felt tense and on edge ever since he’d seen who was sitting next to him while the criminal seemed completely at ease.
“Chess is just fine.” He said curtly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from any more mentions of pants being taken off.
“As you wish, but I feel like I should warn you that this is going to be rather embarrassing for you.” The criminal shrugged before getting up to pull his tablet out of the backpack he’d stored in the overhead compartment earlier.
“You’re the most conceited person I’ve ever met.”
“Oh? Let me introduce you to something truly fascinating; it is called a mirror.” Jim scoffed before sitting back down and unlocking the device.
“No, I know I can solve cases. It’s a fact.”
“Yeees and I know I will beat you at chess. Multiple times. That is also a fact.” The criminal tapped on the screen of the tablet a few times before placing it on the arm rests between their seats. “I’ll let you go first.”
“How chivalrous of you.” Sherlock eyed the other man for a second before deciding that he might as well take the advantage of the first move. If vanity was going to be Moriarty’s downfall then so be it.
Only it wasn’t his downfall and only five minutes later Sherlock found himself in a situation where every possible move was going to be his last one no matter how long he thought about it.
“Should I have mentioned that I play quite often?” Jim asked with a self-righteous smirk.
“Please be quiet or I will stuff something in your mouth.”
“Mmh, please do.” The criminal was biting his bottom lip now, but finally looked a little less relaxed than before. It wasn’t exactly what Sherlock had planned, but if his words could have an effect on Jim he was going to take that as a win anyway.
“Fine, so you’re the next Kasparov. We’ll play something else.” As much as he hated to admit defeat, he wasn’t going to let Jim beat him at chess for another hour in a futile attempt to prove a point.
“Aww, don’t take it to heart, I’m sure we can find a game you’re not too bad at.” The criminal swiped through his game library to show him the options and Sherlock couldn’t help but think that Jim was only mildly endurable when he was talking about a topic he was so passionate about that he forgot to be irritating in the process.
After some consideration, Sherlock identified Monopoly as the best option since dice were involved, meaning that even if Jim played the game every day he could still lose based on bad luck. Hoping that the game would at least help them pass the time, Sherlock tapped the dog figurine on the screen while listening to Jim who was listing the basic rules of the game as a reminder.
“This is not going to go anywhere.” Sherlock stated exasperatedly at 11:45 am. While the game had gone somewhat alright for the first few rounds, it had started to stagnate once they both got their hands on more cards and made it impossible for each other to build any houses or hotels.
“I am not selling Paris.” Jim was repeating himself at this point.
“And I am not going to give you Athens or New York if you aren’t willing to trade Paris.” They’d been walking around the board for a few rounds now, paying some rent and drawing chance cards on occasion, but that was all that could really happen unless one of them gave in and agreed to trading or selling a property.
“I offered to buy Rome for cash, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for the world’s most obstinate consulting detective.”
“Oh please, everybody knows that the orange fields are worth the most based on probability. They’re the ones people are most likely to land on so I’m not going to sell Rome now only for you to build hotels and drive me into bankruptcy within thirty minutes.” If Jim thought he was the only one who was good at games then Sherlock would prove him wrong.
“Fine, keep it. I’m still not selling Paris.” It was quite ironic that Jim thought Sherlock was the stubborn one.
“Yes, but we are not going to get anywhere if we both refuse to trade.” Simply rolling the dice and taking a walk around the digital board was not going to be entertaining enough to distract Sherlock from the fact that they had over seven hours left on this flight.
“That’s business, honey. Sometimes you just have to lean back and wait.” Jim, who had one leg folded underneath him and was sitting on his seat sideways, leaned with his left shoulder against the backrest and watched him as if he had all the time in the world.
“I hate you.”
“Yes yes, I think you’re cute too. Now roll the dice.” The worst part wasn’t even that Sherlock was getting frustrated with their game; it was that Jim seemed to be having the best time with it. When he did roll the dice, all that happened was that he landed on his own property and didn’t have to pay the negligible rent that would have awaited him on the next field.
“Alright, what does it take for you to give me Rome?” Jim asked as soon as it was his turn, as if he hadn't just been ridiculously adamant about not selling Paris.
“I already told you I would exchange it for Paris and put some cash on top, but you refused. Twice.”
“Yeees, but there has to be something else… How about £50?” The criminal looked so serious he might as well have been sitting in a business meeting.
“First of all, I doubt that’s how this game is played. Secondly, no.” Someone else may have taken the money and considered it a good deal even if it meant Jim would win the game, but Sherlock didn’t care nearly enough about money to accept the offer. Beating Jim was definitely the priority here.
“How abooout five hundred?” Jim lifted his eyebrows in question.
“Not even for £5000.”
“Wow, someone is doing well for himself I see. Alright then, I assume you won’t accept a handjob in the bathroom as payment either?”
“You wouldn’t.” Sherlock hated that he still couldn’t really tell whether the criminal was joking or not.
“Mmh, I would…” Jim said pensively. “But to be perfectly honest I might lose interest in playing Monopoly if we actually went there.”
“Well, I’m not accepting that offer either way. Perhaps–” He stopped himself, unsure whether what he’d been about to suggest was a good idea.
“Oh?” Judging by Jim’s smile, it wasn’t.
“Perhaps an exchange for information? You could tell me how big your network actually is or who’s involved in it.”
“I’m not against the idea, but I most certainly won’t give you that type of information for a Monopoly property. Or a real one for that matter. If you want answers in exchange for Rome you can ask me about my favourite colour or what kind of underwear I’m wearing.” The criminal looked rather happy with the introduction of this new idea to the game.
“A bit redundant considering you’d drop your pants for me anyway, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, but alas, you’ve rejected my offers so far, so this might be your only way of finding out.” Jim said with an apologetic shrug.
“Why would I care anyway?” Judging by everything he knew about the criminal it would be some style of briefs, most likely in a dark, neutral colour. He couldn’t quite stop his brain from picturing Jim in different types and brands of underwear. Somehow he didn’t think Jim was the type for Versace, unless he wanted to get a laugh out of someone by choosing a particularly jarring pattern.
“I love that you’re thinking about this. Almost makes me want to tell you.”
“So you could tell me you’re not wearing any only to see my reaction?” He knew Jim would definitely do that in yet another attempt to catch him off guard.
“Aww, you really are starting to get to know me. Anyway, do come up with a question you want me to answer so I can get Rome in exchange. Pretty please.”
Sherlock thought about this for a bit while taking a sip of his tea which had gotten rather cold by now. The thing was, he did want to know all about Jim. Including what underwear he preferred, though that was not exactly high on his list of priorities. The consulting criminal was not going to give away any important information about his work, so there was little use in trying to ask about it. On the other hand, asking about Jim’s favourite colour or food was probably not worth the big risk of losing the game of Monopoly.
“Do you actually want me dead?” Sherlock asked after a while, thinking that it was as close as he could get to being both relevant and something Jim might answer.
“Mmh, you mean right now? No.” For a few seconds, Sherlock was simply letting that information sink in before he started wondering whether it was even true. Of course it was entirely possible for Moriarty to lie, but it would defeat the purpose of the game and he somehow felt as if the criminal had a certain respect for that.
“Now, if you’d be so kind…” Jim nodded towards the tablet where he had already tapped in the request to get Rome for a symbolic value of $1 since properties couldn’t be gifted.
With a little sigh, Sherlock pressed the ‘accept’ button and watched as the orange property card went from his own stack to Jim’s. Somehow he felt as if this hadn’t been a good deal at all.
“Would you give me Paris if I answered one of your questions?” The second he said it, Sherlock realised he might not even want to answer whatever it was Jim would ask about.
“Hmm, not really, no.” Jim grabbed a few peanuts from the plastic bag on his tray.
“You’re just not going to ask me anything?”
“The thing is… You’re a bit of an open book. I could ask you whether you’re actually a virgin, but that would be distasteful and honestly not even that interesting.” The criminal shrugged before tapping the screen to roll the dice. “Besides, this isn’t Truth or Dare.”
A few minutes later, Jim had built two houses on each of his orange properties and Sherlock landed on Rome of all places.
“You really do need to find a way to let out all of that pent-up frustration…” Jim said as a reaction to Sherlock's facial expression when he saw how much he would have to pay.
“Give. Me. Paris.” He did his best not to raise his voice.
“No.” Jim replied very calmly.
“I gave you Rome!”
“Yes, really bad move on your part. You already knew I don’t want you to drop dead right now anyway so why bother? You’re obviously more entertaining alive than dead– I’m not into that you know…” As much as Sherlock wanted to be angry at Moriarty, he had to mentally scold himself. Agreeing to trade Rome for an answer to his question had been as good as a deal with the devil– absolutely futile.
“Refusing to trade Paris is a bit of a cheap way out.” He was determined not to give up just yet.
“Fiiiine. Make me a good offer then.” The criminal rolled his eyes and moved to stretch his shoulders after hours of sitting in uncomfortable positions.
“Seriously? What happened to ‘I’m not selling Paris’?”
“Sherlock, I can still change my mind. First you whine about not getting Paris, now I tell you to offer me a deal and you’re still complaining. God, you’re being so emotional it’s truly astonishing that people accuse you of not having feelings.” Jim lazily grabbed his cup and had a sip of cold tea.
“I’m not emotional.”
“Darling, frustration and anger are emotions. You can use my tablet to look it up if you want.” Sherlock wasn’t sure what was more infuriating, Jim’s words or the fact that he still looked very calm and relaxed.
“I’ll text you.” Once he heard himself say it out loud he felt like it would have been a good idea to think about this for a bit longer. Jim furrowed his brows.
“You’ll text me?”
“First time we met, you gave me your number but I never called. Don’t like phone calls, but I’ll text you.” This was thin ice. If he had miscalculated something, Jim would just end up laughing at him.
“And what will you text me?” The criminal sounded intrigued.
“Don’t know yet. If you want you can text me first, I’ll respond.”
“Ooh… And is there an expiration date of some sort? Are you only going to text me once or is that just a thing you’re going to do from now on?” Sherlock could already see that this was going to end up being a bottomless pit of texting back and forth.
“I can’t promise to respond to every message you send for the rest of my life, just… I’ll text you.” It was ridiculously vague, but he wasn’t about to promise a response to every single text Jim would send him in the future. The criminal would only end up sending hundreds of messages in an attempt to drive him insane.
“Urgh, fine. But if you only respond to me twice and consider the promise fulfilled I will set fire to your flat.” Jim shrugged and started tapping the screen to set up the Paris transfer.
“Yes. Like a jilted lover. I get the idea.” For the first time, it seemed to him that Jim looked a bit tense.
“I’ll text back a reasonable amount.” Sherlock added while watching Jim who had been quietly tapping away at the screen without arguing back. It had suddenly become clear to him that although Jim’s lack of tension had frustrated him during the past hours, this was not better at all. The criminal’s dissatisfaction with how the conversation was going should have felt like victory, but Sherlock couldn’t enjoy it. Whatever game they were playing wasn’t fun when Jim was just quietly staring at the screen instead of snapping back at him. It was at that moment that he started questioning whether he was actually suffering through this flight or secretly enjoying it. Of course enjoying Moriarty’s company was not something that should reasonably be possible and John would have a fit if he ever heard a mention of it, but Sherlock was starting to think that it was definitely more intriguing than spending ten hours in his mind palace and taking naps.
“Well… That will be interesting, considering neither one of us is the reasonable type.” Jim still looked a bit lost in thought, but at least he was talking to Sherlock.
“Wait, did they have those on the menu?” He nodded towards the peanuts on the criminal’s tray.
“No, I think they avoid them because some people are so severely allergic that they could drop dead from being near them.” Jim said casually before grabbing another handful.
“So… You brought peanuts on a plane in the hopes of killing someone?”
The criminal pensively looked to the side while chewing.
“No, not in the hope anyway. Was I aware of potential issues? Maybe. Could I get sued for bringing a snack? Not with my legal team. It’s more of a ‘see what happens’ situation than actual attempted murder.” Jim shrugged. “They’re good, want some?” After the mint candy hadn’t killed Sherlock, he figured he might as well take advantage of his seat neighbour’s well-stocked travel bag. With the Paris card now on his side of the screen, Sherlock lost no time before building a few houses in the hopes that Jim would get unlucky soon.
They continued to play, ordered more tea and both landed on each other’s properties several times before starting to get bored.
“It’s almost 1 pm.” Sherlock stated in a monotone voice after yet another roll of dice.
“Mhm, four hours done, six more to go.” The criminal tried to sound upbeat, but it was rather obvious that he was no longer having fun with their little game either. The money would be traded back and forth between the two of them, depending on who got unlucky. There wasn’t much left to strategize about though, the win only depended on one of them getting unlucky a few times in a row while the other landed on safe fields.
“We’re not even halfway there and this game is getting boring.” Apparently Jim wasn’t going to argue with him there.
“We’re over Greenland now.”
“Yes, but how is that helping?” He leaned his head against the back of his seat and stared at the ceiling.
“I don’t know.” Jim was also leaning back now, but looking at Sherlock instead of the ceiling.
“Have you ever been there?” Apparently they were drifting into small talk now for lack of better things to do.
“Greenland? Why the hell would I go there? Way too cold.” Jim looked like he was shivering just thinking about it.
“Yes, but it’s an interesting place. Don’t they also have the green lights there? In the sky.” He may have been able to remember what those were called but he didn’t feel like thinking about it too much. Being bored had this odd tendency to make him feel lethargic which didn’t help.
“Aurora borealis, yes. The northern lights. Solar storms lead to clouds of electrically charged particles which are then transported by solar winds and if they get to Earth they can get captured in our atmosphere’s electrical field– that’s why you can mostly see them around the poles. I also hate you for bringing that up because it reminds me I really should go see those at some point. Not in Greenland though, that place is just impractical to get to.” Jim looked at the tray with his tea, probably thinking about when he could fit a trip into his schedule. Meanwhile Sherlock couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t bored with the criminal’s stories about space and solar storms yet. While they were obviously scientific facts, they were utterly irrelevant for solving cases. Even if someone died while watching the northern lights, Sherlock wouldn’t need to know why these lights exist. Though since he was in a plane with nothing better to do, it was probably more interesting to listen to stories that he didn’t know rather than having Jim tell him about something he was already familiar with.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” The criminal said with a sigh before getting up, making sure to take his phone with him. The tablet wasn’t a work device then, otherwise he wouldn’t have left it behind. Unless he was trying to trick Sherlock.
Leaning over to make sure the criminal had actually gone into the bathroom in the front of the plane, Sherlock quickly closed the Monopoly app which had still been displaying the board up until now. The home screen was covered in different folders that separated card games, board games, streaming apps, social media, crosswords, music and several other categories which didn’t sound relevant enough to check out. He quickly opened the photo album only to find it almost empty, safe for a few pictures of London, including the one that had been set as a background. There were no contacts saved on the device either and none of the folders seemed to contain anything suspicious, so he quickly opened the Monopoly app again before Jim caught him snooping.
“Did you have fun?” Jim asked when he got back to his seat after a few minutes.
“Not sure what you mean.” Sherlock had connected to the plane’s wifi on his phone and was scrolling through the news now.
“The only potentially scandalous thing you can find on that thing are the porn bookmarks.” The criminal nodded towards the tablet between them before taking a sip of his tea.
“The– Nevermind, I’m not going to ask.” He should have checked the web browser. Not for the pornography, but it may have been interesting to see what the criminal had looked up online. Flights, hotels, shop addresses, anything that could hint at where he was planning to go within the next few weeks. Though if Jim was to be believed, there wasn’t anything to find on there anyway.
“I think they’re going to bring out the lunch menus soon. Feels like we just had breakfast ten minutes ago…” Jim said to himself without even paying attention to Sherlock for once. It seemed to him that the coffee earlier hadn’t been enough to keep the criminal awake for long. For a second he considered whether a nap wasn’t a realistic option after all, but he quickly reminded himself that Jim couldn’t be trusted. Of course they’d had some fun playing Monopoly until the game got boring and the criminal’s little astronomy lessons were quite nice, but four hours of decent conversations shouldn’t be enough for him to consider taking a nap next to Jim Moriarty. It was obvious that the criminal didn’t trust him either, otherwise he could have left his phone behind when he’d gone to the bathroom and he would excuse himself for a nap now that he was getting sleepy again.
“What would you have done if I’d texted you?” He’d slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at the criminal again to make sure he didn’t miss any reactions.
“Huh?” Jim looked up, but it was clear that he had spent most of his energy on their previous games.
“You left your number. What if I’d decided to text Jim from IT?” While he was keeping in mind that Jim could always lie to him, it would still be interesting to hear the response.
“Oh… Well, depends on what you would have texted me I suppose.” The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up.
“If we are going by other people’s standards, a number being left like that usually invites an exchange of texts that would lead to a meeting in a hotel room.”
“Is that so? I don’t know Sherl, buy me a drink first.” Jim sounded rather amused by Sherlock’s theory and he felt oddly relieved that the criminal was starting to be a bit more awake now. At least the time would pass more quickly if they were engaged in a conversation.
“Right, dinner, drinks, that kind of thing.”
“And most people don’t go to a hotel either. Unless they have a wife to hide or whatever. But if your question is whether I would have responded to your text; the answer is yes.”
“Hm. And so you would have…” He tried to imagine what it would have been like if he’d texted Jim from IT. Perhaps if he’d gotten bored one night he would have asked the man why he’d left his number just to see what he would respond. Knowing Jim, the conversation would not have died after a few texts and they would have started some sort of conversation, then what? Would he have ended up thinking Jim from IT was an interesting person? Would they actually have met at some point?
“You’re awfully obsessed with the idea of getting off with me for someone who isn’t interested. If you want the details you’ll just have to text me and find out.” Jim grinned mischievously.
“Excuse me,” he held his left hand up to get a passing crew member’s attention, “could we have more coffee here please? This man is starting to get delirious.” Somewhere behind him, Jim was giggling.
“You realise you just did it, right?” Jim asked once the crew member had walked away.
“Done what?” Sherlock was mildly annoyed with himself at this point. He hadn’t wanted for Jim to be tired and quiet, but now he was starting to feel frustrated with the criminal again.
“Ordered me a drink first.” That self-satisfied grin was practically begging to be wiped off Jim’s face. “I mean seriously, I am trying not to flirt with you, but you’re making it really hard.” The criminal was doing a good job trying to sound matter-of-factly, but Sherlock immediately noticed the mention of the word ‘hard’.
“Am I?” Perhaps some people would have suggested that he should not engage in this kind of conversation with the criminal, but it was in Sherlock’s nature to quickly reply in the most clever way he could think of at any given moment. He couldn’t regret it either, because the look on Jim’s face was absolutely priceless. The criminal hadn’t expected this kind of answer and now he was impressed– it clearly meant Sherlock had won this round of the game they were playing and that couldn’t be a bad thing.
“You’re sending so many mixed signals…” Jim’s little smile and the tone of his voice were clear indications that he was flirting regardless of his confusion. Still, Sherlock felt rather content that he’d managed to catch the criminal off guard for once. If this was what Jim felt like, he could hardly blame the criminal for teasing him all the time. Perhaps he was starting to enjoy this a bit too much.
“I can’t believe everyone thinks you’re a blushing virgin. It’s like they don’t know you at all…” It was difficult to tell whether it was another flirtation or just an observation on Jim’s part, but he didn’t have much time to think about it since the crew had started handing out the lunch menus. It was 1:30 pm.