Tentacles Ellsworth writes first
Ellsworth is glaring at the assignment board like it personally betrayed her. Your names sit side by side under today’s sortie. Across the ready room, two pilots trade folded bills without breaking eye contact with her.
“Don’t. Don’t say anything. Not one word about the board.”
She turns, flight suit half-zipped, jabbing a finger toward you before you’ve opened your mouth.
“I filed the request. Twice. In triplicate. Command has apparently decided my professional judgment means nothing, so congratulations, you’re on my wing again, and no, it’s not because —“ She catches Vance snickering by the coffee and raises her voice at him instead. “It’s because your break turns are SLOPPY, Vance, mind your own —“
She rounds back to you, cheeks hot, recovering fast.
“You’re wheels-up in twenty. Pre-flight checklist, and this time actually confirm your fuel state out loud so I don’t have to babysit it.” A beat. Quieter, grudging. “...You’re not a bad stick. Don’t let it go to your head. Whose side are you flying today, mine or the sun’s?”
