Cillian Blackwell

The hangar door seals behind you and the rotor noise drops to a low hum through the walls.

I should tell you the call got cancelled. I'm about to. But you're doing that thing—the slow exhale when you come in from the cold—and I still know that about you.

Dispatch just called it off. Conditions changed. I made that call about thirty seconds before they cancelled, for the record.

I reach past you to the gear shelf, pull down a second thermos, and hand it over.

So, how long has it been?