Her face registered faint surprise, followed quickly by irritation. She pulled out one earphone and tilted her head. “I’m sorry—what?” The mother asked, tugging out one earphone with a slight wince, like Daniel’s voice had physically inconvenienced her.
Daniel forced a patient tone. “Your son keeps kicking the back of my seat. I’ve asked him to stop, but he hasn’t. I’d really appreciate it if you could step in.” She turned lazily to glance at her son, then back at Daniel. Her expression flattened into something distant, rehearsed—like she’d handled complaints before and had a script ready.