( Wes and Cheriss and Tycho, oh my! )

Things happen, as things tend to, and time passes in much the same way ( Read more... )

He steps out into his (and Hobbie's) bunk room on the ship, and the first thing he does is whirl around and step back through the door--

--into the corridor.

One hand against the wall, feeling the vibrations from the engines, Wes breathes for a moment. He's scared, so scared, so kriffing terrified -- and then he's back in his room (door slides, ( Read more... )

He spent almost all of yesterday in the sims -- the afternoon, anyway, after-- after that. Because he couldn't face going anywhere else, because going anywhere else might mean seeing Inyri again, or Gavin or Lujayne, or Hobbie; and he wasn't sure why he couldn't quite face Hobbie, but he couldn't, so he stayed.

He needed to fly.

( vaping broken pilots )

( 'on behalf of captain janson i'd like to thank you...' )

( planes flown by people called Janson are good for something... )

Somehow, despite everything -- maybe because of everything -- he slept well last night. Probably his best night's sleep in a while, and that's nothing to do with the fact that he spent the last couple nights sleeping on the floor and in a booth ( Read more... )

Wes wandered down to the main bar area earlier, for his morning caf and maybe some breakfast. But with the caf came a key and a note, a note that he read, and read again, then crumpled up and shoved in his pocket. He drank his caf quickly, staring out of the viewport to the end of the universe; then, with a quiet, "Thanks, Bar," he left and ( Read more... )