You might be wearing a diaper, but that doesn't mean you're not capable of waiting to relieve yourself. Just because this is apparently part of your 'costume' now, you still have to assume there'll be some kind of opportunity for a more conventional convenience break once you get to the airport. You might be starting to get uncomfortable, but you only have to hang on until then, you tell yourself.
Unfortunately, you seem to have had your share of luck for today. Not a mile further down the road and traffic suddenly seems to slow to a crawl; not even your diplomatic plates and fancy limo are enough to help force your way through any faster.
"Don't worry," the Queen assures you, seeing you looking out of the windows with concern. "It's a private jet and a flexible departure slot. We can take our time to get there." She reaches across to the minibar in the centre console. "Please do help yourselves, if anybody would like a drink."
A drink is the last thing on your mind at the moment, however. You cross your legs uncomfortably and rock slightly in your seat. You really are going to have to do something about this before too much longer.
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