![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_scribblesAnother chapter! These scenes are working out on the shorter side (shorter than my usual chapter length, anyway) but I think this means that there will be quite a few of them.
Here's part 2! ALL THE AWKWARD, NERVOUS FLIRTING. Good God, Cpt Crieff & Dr Hooper are as bad as each other!
Part 1
Two
-x-
Douglas lingered in the doorway. ‘Aren’t you coming out, then?’
Martin stayed exactly where he was, pretending to be concerned about the Turn Indicator. ‘I’ll be out in a bit.’
‘But the passengers are leaving now. I thought you always liked to see them off – remind them one last time that you were the one with the fancy cap for this particular flight.’ He paused. ‘Or doesn’t that count when a little girl has hit you?’
‘I’m just… looking at the…’
‘The Turn Indicator is fine, Martin. If you’re worried about her slapping you again, I think she’s clamed down considerably over the rest of the flight. And I’ve got my hands free now, I can protect you.’
‘Fine! Fine.’ Martin got up and went to bid farewell to the passengers with Douglas and Arthur. Wearily, the passengers shuffled off in line, all visibly glad to be back in Britain, but not that many of them particularly vocal in their gratitude. Martin’s hopes that Little Miss Hysteria would file out as quietly as the rest were quashed when he noticed that she was deliberately waiting until everybody else had left before getting out of her seat. She’d clearly been crying most of the way to Luton. Perfect. A tearful woman, talking to him. That was all that he needed.
She walked up to the three airline staff, head down.
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ said Arthur, cheerfully.
‘Um,’ said the woman. ‘Listen, I just…’
‘It’s quite all right, Douglas soothed. ‘No harm done.’
The left side of Martin’s face was still burning from the slap, and his scalp was sore, but he just nodded in mute agreement.
The woman looked up at him, and winced at the sight of his cheek. ‘Ooh, that’s red.’
‘He’s often that colour,’ replied Douglas.
‘I just wanted to…’ the woman took a deep breath. ‘I wish I could make this up to you, somehow. I’m not a bad person…’ she bit back tears again.
‘No,’ murmured Martin, feeling as though a dozen or so eels had suddenly taken up residency in the pit of his belly, where they were now trying to perform some interpretive dance around the theme of abject embarrassment. ‘I’m sure you… It’s been a very stressful for…’
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ Arthur repeated, with exactly the same level of cheer as before.
‘The least I can do is explain, properly. So I was wondering…’ she screwed up her face. ‘Could I at least buy you a drink?’
‘That,’ said Martin, before pausing for a full five, horribly awkward seconds. When his answer did finally come out, it was all in one breathy rush. ‘thatwouldn’tbeveryprofessionalofmei’mafraid.’
The woman looked down at her shoes, and nodded. ‘I understand. Sorry. Again.’
She slowly, glumly walked down the steps to the tarmac.
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ called Arthur. ‘Hope you use us again in the future, Doctor!’
Martin screwed up his face. ‘”Doctor”?’
‘Yes, according to the flight manifest,’ Arthur chirped. ‘When she had her funny turn I thought I’d see if there was a Doctor on board, and it turned out it was her.’
Martin turned back to address Douglas and felt his face heating up again when he saw him staring very pointedly at the departing woman’s bottom.
He grabbed Douglas’ arm. ‘What the Hell are you doing?’ he hissed.
‘Looking for her tail.’
‘What?’
‘Well, there has to be some horrific genetic defect about her, surely.’ Douglas turned back to Martin. ‘Since you are now hurtling into your mid thirties and still remain anywhere between Single And Looking and Painfully, Painfully Alone, depending on how drunk and maudlin you are, and given that this young lady is pretty, and must have a brain on her to have got that Doctorate, she’s clearly quite psychologically disturbed, which would usually go against someone, but in your case I’d say it’s actually a positive sign, and has just asked you out, only for you to turn her down, for some mysterious reason.’
‘She just hit me!’
‘And now she wants to make it up to you.’
‘She obviously only did it because I look just like somebody she really hates.’
‘Or somebody that she likes really rather too much for her own good.’
‘She’s emotionally vulnerable. She’s clearly in distress…’
‘Which you could have eased by taking her up on her offer and not dealing her the further humiliating blow of rejection, but no.’
‘She is my passenger. I am a professional, and I’m not going to abuse my position as…’
Douglas plucked the cap from Martin’s head and threw it down the cabin. ‘Problem solved.’
‘No it isn’t!’
‘She’s disembarked. She is not a passenger any more. And you are no longer on duty.’
Martin looked out across the tarmac. The woman was still hauling her hand luggage through the drizzle.
‘She didn’t even ask me out. It’s just a coffee and an explanation.’
‘Well then, you’ve got nothing to lose, have you?’
‘Although, really,’ added Arthur, bringing back Martin’s hat, ‘coffee’s still “out”, isn’t it? A café’s still “out”. Unless you don’t count the ones in the airport lounge. Which I do. Generally, I’d say coffee anywhere apart from your home is “out”. Maybe she wants you to go home with her, Skip!’ He handed Martin the hat. ‘Although I’ve found that when a girl asks you back to her house for coffee, she actually means sex. Oh! She might want to have sex with you!’
Martin looked down at his hat. ‘I’ll… just go and check that Turn Indicator…’
‘You’ll go and talk to her,’ Douglas replied, ‘or I’ll send Forrest Gump here to give her your number. In his own inimitable style.’
‘Oh, you should definitely talk to her if she wants to have sex with you, Skip,’ Arthur enthused. ‘You’ll love sex, it’s brilliant.’
‘Fine,’ sighed Martin. ‘I’ll go. And when all of this blows up in my face, I’ll know who to blame.’
Douglas slapped him on the shoulders rather too hard, making him stumble on the way out onto the steps.
‘Keep calm and carry on. If you’re capable of that.’
‘See you tomorrow, Skip,’ Arthur called after him. ‘Good luck with the sex!’
Of course, Martin had to run, in order to catch up with her. And then he had to pretend that he hadn’t been running, and try to hide how out of breath he was, which only resulted in him making very odd, unattractive puffing noises as he approached her as smoothly as he could. Which was to say, not terribly smoothly.
‘Um,’ he said, ‘hello. Um.’
‘Oh.’ The woman’s face was already crumpled with despair, and was in no danger of looking any cheerier. ‘What have I done this time?’
‘Nothing! Nothing. It’s just… change of plan. No – change of circumstances.’
‘What – in the last three minutes?’
Martin barked out a short, panicked laugh. ‘Ha ha! Yes! Well, sort-of. No… yes. See, when I said that it would have been unprofessional for me to have had a coffee with you, that was me speaking as an airline Captain to a passenger. But you’re not any more, and I’m not any more…’
The woman’s eyes flashed with alarm. ‘They sacked you?’
‘No! No, I still am. I am still the Captain.’ He realised that he was shouting a little. ‘I’m just… I’m off duty now, so I thought perhaps if I as a person not currently at work were to ask you, a person who is not currently making use of my services… sorry, that sounds a bit like I’m a prostitute, doesn’t it? I’m not a prostitute.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ replied the woman. It was only as she trailed off into a nervous laugh that Martin realised that she’d meant it as a joke and that he wasn’t laughing along. Her giggle faded into an awkward silence.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean it like… could we start again?’
‘Yes, please.’
She clenched her fists and straightened her back. ‘Would you, now that you’re not on duty, like a drink?’
Martin drew breath to reply, but she cut him off suddenly.
‘By which,’ she added, ‘I mean, would you like to drink the drink I’ve bought for you at a table with me while I explain why I did what I did and then possibly have a friendly conversation after that?’
‘I’d have thought that would be taken as a given…’
The woman pointed a finger at him in a vaguely accusatory manner. ‘You…’ she checked herself, and softened her tone. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Oh. Well. Yes, then. To the drink and the conversation.’
She exhaled in what sounded like a sigh of relief. ‘Lovely.’ She hefted her hand luggage over her other shoulder. ‘I presume there’s no special “I’m with the Pilot” door I can go through to avoid Passports & Customs?’
That was a joke, his brain prompted him. Laugh at her joke!
He laughed, much too loudly, noticed that that just sounded strange and then stopped, suddenly.
‘Sorry. No. I’ll, um… there’s a Costa Coffee in the arrivals lounge. I can meet you there when we’re done?’
‘OK. See you in Arrivals.’
‘I could do you a card with your name on it, but I don’t know your name.’
‘And we know what each other looks like, and you’re not my chauffeur…’ The woman blinked. ‘That was just a cute way of asking me my name, wasn’t it?’
It hadn’t been anything of the sort. Martin had simply said the first thing that had popped into his head when picturing meeting somebody at Arrivals.
‘Yes…?’ he replied.
‘It’s Molly,’ she said.
‘Oh. Well, hello, Molly.’ He paused, willing his mouth not to carry on flapping away – a fruitless endeavour. ‘Are you well, Molly? It’s so good to have you back where you belong…’
Molly just nodded and smiled the smile of somebody who’d heard that one many, many times before. ‘I’ll meet you outside Costa’s.’
Oh God, he thought as she walked away, she’s not going to show up, is she?
Part 3
Here's part 2! ALL THE AWKWARD, NERVOUS FLIRTING. Good God, Cpt Crieff & Dr Hooper are as bad as each other!
Part 1
Two
-x-
Douglas lingered in the doorway. ‘Aren’t you coming out, then?’
Martin stayed exactly where he was, pretending to be concerned about the Turn Indicator. ‘I’ll be out in a bit.’
‘But the passengers are leaving now. I thought you always liked to see them off – remind them one last time that you were the one with the fancy cap for this particular flight.’ He paused. ‘Or doesn’t that count when a little girl has hit you?’
‘I’m just… looking at the…’
‘The Turn Indicator is fine, Martin. If you’re worried about her slapping you again, I think she’s clamed down considerably over the rest of the flight. And I’ve got my hands free now, I can protect you.’
‘Fine! Fine.’ Martin got up and went to bid farewell to the passengers with Douglas and Arthur. Wearily, the passengers shuffled off in line, all visibly glad to be back in Britain, but not that many of them particularly vocal in their gratitude. Martin’s hopes that Little Miss Hysteria would file out as quietly as the rest were quashed when he noticed that she was deliberately waiting until everybody else had left before getting out of her seat. She’d clearly been crying most of the way to Luton. Perfect. A tearful woman, talking to him. That was all that he needed.
She walked up to the three airline staff, head down.
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ said Arthur, cheerfully.
‘Um,’ said the woman. ‘Listen, I just…’
‘It’s quite all right, Douglas soothed. ‘No harm done.’
The left side of Martin’s face was still burning from the slap, and his scalp was sore, but he just nodded in mute agreement.
The woman looked up at him, and winced at the sight of his cheek. ‘Ooh, that’s red.’
‘He’s often that colour,’ replied Douglas.
‘I just wanted to…’ the woman took a deep breath. ‘I wish I could make this up to you, somehow. I’m not a bad person…’ she bit back tears again.
‘No,’ murmured Martin, feeling as though a dozen or so eels had suddenly taken up residency in the pit of his belly, where they were now trying to perform some interpretive dance around the theme of abject embarrassment. ‘I’m sure you… It’s been a very stressful for…’
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ Arthur repeated, with exactly the same level of cheer as before.
‘The least I can do is explain, properly. So I was wondering…’ she screwed up her face. ‘Could I at least buy you a drink?’
‘That,’ said Martin, before pausing for a full five, horribly awkward seconds. When his answer did finally come out, it was all in one breathy rush. ‘thatwouldn’tbeveryprofessionalofmei’mafraid.’
The woman looked down at her shoes, and nodded. ‘I understand. Sorry. Again.’
She slowly, glumly walked down the steps to the tarmac.
‘Thank you for flying MJN Airways!’ called Arthur. ‘Hope you use us again in the future, Doctor!’
Martin screwed up his face. ‘”Doctor”?’
‘Yes, according to the flight manifest,’ Arthur chirped. ‘When she had her funny turn I thought I’d see if there was a Doctor on board, and it turned out it was her.’
Martin turned back to address Douglas and felt his face heating up again when he saw him staring very pointedly at the departing woman’s bottom.
He grabbed Douglas’ arm. ‘What the Hell are you doing?’ he hissed.
‘Looking for her tail.’
‘What?’
‘Well, there has to be some horrific genetic defect about her, surely.’ Douglas turned back to Martin. ‘Since you are now hurtling into your mid thirties and still remain anywhere between Single And Looking and Painfully, Painfully Alone, depending on how drunk and maudlin you are, and given that this young lady is pretty, and must have a brain on her to have got that Doctorate, she’s clearly quite psychologically disturbed, which would usually go against someone, but in your case I’d say it’s actually a positive sign, and has just asked you out, only for you to turn her down, for some mysterious reason.’
‘She just hit me!’
‘And now she wants to make it up to you.’
‘She obviously only did it because I look just like somebody she really hates.’
‘Or somebody that she likes really rather too much for her own good.’
‘She’s emotionally vulnerable. She’s clearly in distress…’
‘Which you could have eased by taking her up on her offer and not dealing her the further humiliating blow of rejection, but no.’
‘She is my passenger. I am a professional, and I’m not going to abuse my position as…’
Douglas plucked the cap from Martin’s head and threw it down the cabin. ‘Problem solved.’
‘No it isn’t!’
‘She’s disembarked. She is not a passenger any more. And you are no longer on duty.’
Martin looked out across the tarmac. The woman was still hauling her hand luggage through the drizzle.
‘She didn’t even ask me out. It’s just a coffee and an explanation.’
‘Well then, you’ve got nothing to lose, have you?’
‘Although, really,’ added Arthur, bringing back Martin’s hat, ‘coffee’s still “out”, isn’t it? A café’s still “out”. Unless you don’t count the ones in the airport lounge. Which I do. Generally, I’d say coffee anywhere apart from your home is “out”. Maybe she wants you to go home with her, Skip!’ He handed Martin the hat. ‘Although I’ve found that when a girl asks you back to her house for coffee, she actually means sex. Oh! She might want to have sex with you!’
Martin looked down at his hat. ‘I’ll… just go and check that Turn Indicator…’
‘You’ll go and talk to her,’ Douglas replied, ‘or I’ll send Forrest Gump here to give her your number. In his own inimitable style.’
‘Oh, you should definitely talk to her if she wants to have sex with you, Skip,’ Arthur enthused. ‘You’ll love sex, it’s brilliant.’
‘Fine,’ sighed Martin. ‘I’ll go. And when all of this blows up in my face, I’ll know who to blame.’
Douglas slapped him on the shoulders rather too hard, making him stumble on the way out onto the steps.
‘Keep calm and carry on. If you’re capable of that.’
‘See you tomorrow, Skip,’ Arthur called after him. ‘Good luck with the sex!’
Of course, Martin had to run, in order to catch up with her. And then he had to pretend that he hadn’t been running, and try to hide how out of breath he was, which only resulted in him making very odd, unattractive puffing noises as he approached her as smoothly as he could. Which was to say, not terribly smoothly.
‘Um,’ he said, ‘hello. Um.’
‘Oh.’ The woman’s face was already crumpled with despair, and was in no danger of looking any cheerier. ‘What have I done this time?’
‘Nothing! Nothing. It’s just… change of plan. No – change of circumstances.’
‘What – in the last three minutes?’
Martin barked out a short, panicked laugh. ‘Ha ha! Yes! Well, sort-of. No… yes. See, when I said that it would have been unprofessional for me to have had a coffee with you, that was me speaking as an airline Captain to a passenger. But you’re not any more, and I’m not any more…’
The woman’s eyes flashed with alarm. ‘They sacked you?’
‘No! No, I still am. I am still the Captain.’ He realised that he was shouting a little. ‘I’m just… I’m off duty now, so I thought perhaps if I as a person not currently at work were to ask you, a person who is not currently making use of my services… sorry, that sounds a bit like I’m a prostitute, doesn’t it? I’m not a prostitute.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ replied the woman. It was only as she trailed off into a nervous laugh that Martin realised that she’d meant it as a joke and that he wasn’t laughing along. Her giggle faded into an awkward silence.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean it like… could we start again?’
‘Yes, please.’
She clenched her fists and straightened her back. ‘Would you, now that you’re not on duty, like a drink?’
Martin drew breath to reply, but she cut him off suddenly.
‘By which,’ she added, ‘I mean, would you like to drink the drink I’ve bought for you at a table with me while I explain why I did what I did and then possibly have a friendly conversation after that?’
‘I’d have thought that would be taken as a given…’
The woman pointed a finger at him in a vaguely accusatory manner. ‘You…’ she checked herself, and softened her tone. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Oh. Well. Yes, then. To the drink and the conversation.’
She exhaled in what sounded like a sigh of relief. ‘Lovely.’ She hefted her hand luggage over her other shoulder. ‘I presume there’s no special “I’m with the Pilot” door I can go through to avoid Passports & Customs?’
That was a joke, his brain prompted him. Laugh at her joke!
He laughed, much too loudly, noticed that that just sounded strange and then stopped, suddenly.
‘Sorry. No. I’ll, um… there’s a Costa Coffee in the arrivals lounge. I can meet you there when we’re done?’
‘OK. See you in Arrivals.’
‘I could do you a card with your name on it, but I don’t know your name.’
‘And we know what each other looks like, and you’re not my chauffeur…’ The woman blinked. ‘That was just a cute way of asking me my name, wasn’t it?’
It hadn’t been anything of the sort. Martin had simply said the first thing that had popped into his head when picturing meeting somebody at Arrivals.
‘Yes…?’ he replied.
‘It’s Molly,’ she said.
‘Oh. Well, hello, Molly.’ He paused, willing his mouth not to carry on flapping away – a fruitless endeavour. ‘Are you well, Molly? It’s so good to have you back where you belong…’
Molly just nodded and smiled the smile of somebody who’d heard that one many, many times before. ‘I’ll meet you outside Costa’s.’
Oh God, he thought as she walked away, she’s not going to show up, is she?
Part 3
