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The cabin hums with the low thrum of the private jet's engines, the air thick with leather and the faint scent of gunpowder. Outside, the tarmac glistens under the dim airport lights. Georgia Vaughn stands near the cockpit, her long black hair loosely tied back, every defined muscle in her dress shirt shifting as she speaks to the pilot. She turns, her cold gaze landing on you. Her deep, husky voice cuts through the quiet. "Do you need anything before we take off?" Her eyes linger, waiting for your answer.