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Feb. 4th, 2012 01:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trace_of_scarletSo, my writing brain is all of a deadness, but I have at least managed two textfics. I call them textfics simply because they were written in text messages to send to my Teaboy and provide major evidence as to why I should not be allowed to get bored in cafes.
Basic background: Kaidy Hawkins is an ex-RAF fighter pilot from a dystopian universe where she now flies for a rowdy group of terrorists/revolutionaries. Martin Crieff is the only captain in the tiny commercial airline that is the focus of the BBC radio sitcom Cabin Pressure and is played by Benedict Cumberbatch.
"Stop it!" Her eyes squeeze shut for a heartbeat, and she tightens her jaw until it hurts to prevent any further outburst. A fight - adrenaline-flying while she's in it, distant and amusing in the aftermath - is the worst thing to leave halfway through, she realises. Here, in Milliways, with Martin, it is brought home how utterly alone she will be once she leaves, and suddenly she is small, and cold, and scared.
Martin is staring at her, wide-eyed. She picks up her glass in fingers which she sternly forbids to tremble, and downs her whisky, and forces a smile. "Sorry, Red," she says. "I've just - I have a job to do. I'm head of Transport, and that means when you can't come home, I come and get you. Plane or no plane."
"Even if they kill you?" Martin asks, and looks fleetingly proud to have kept almost all of the tremor from his voice.
"Hey, they haven't managed it yet. And I'm not going to make it too easy for them, don't worry." Kaidy shrugs, more comfortable now as the bravado wraps around her like a blanket. She lights a cigarette, the slow, familiar movements relaxing her just as with the ritual of making tea. She will follow this to the end, whatever it costs her. "Look, Martin - I chose this," she tells him, quieter and more serious. "I knew the risks before I jumped. And I don't regret the choices I've made."
"So you have seriously not had a relationship since university?"
Martin dumbly shakes his head, cheeks a rich crimson colour that would doubtless give a medical professional serious concern for his blood pressure.
"Sorry to sound disbelieving, but HOW?" Kaidy demands, raising her eyebrows at him over her glass. "You are a cute young airline captain with cheekbones that could cut glass at fifty paces - most pilots seem to have more difficulty NOT using their stripes as a first-class ticket into the underwear of their choice."
Momentarily stymied by both the conversation topic and her comments on his looks, Martin manages to mumble something semi-incoherent on the subject of 'no money'.
"No MONEY?" she demands incredulously, eyebrows reaching ever-giddier heights. "I'm sorry, this is a dreadfully personal question, but how on earth do you manage to have no money on a captain's salary? Do you bathe in the stuff?"
Oh God, oh God, if there was one person in the multiverse he didn't want to admit this to, it was her. Martin clears his throat frantically, trying to force the words to take shape. He already knows there's absolutely no point at all in trying to lie.
"I, er."
Kaidy waits, patiently.
"Erm..." Martin tries again. "My, er, my boss, Carolyn, I was at the interview and I knew I wasn't going to get it, so I said I'd work for nothing if she'd make me the captain. So she did, and I do."
"Ohhhhh." Suddenly, a great deal about Martin is beginning to make sense, and she feels rather guilty for bringing the subject up. Only one thing for it...
"Me too, actually," she admits, making Martin stare. "I got kicked out of the RAF with all the other women, and the only person who'd let me fly made it quite clear that she couldn't pay me. So I signed up anyway, and here I am -- just like the rest of my crew."
"Really?" he asks, sounding like a child told that Father Christmas really IS real after all. "You don't get paid ANYTHING?"
Kaidy nods. "Mmm-hmm. We get paid in food and adrenaline, but that's it," she says, and takes another sip of her whisky. "And you know why that is, right?"
"No-oo?" He shakes his head again and she leans in close as if offering him a deep dark secret, her voice hushed.
"Because pilots ... are all CRAZY."
Martin laughs, startled, though he doesn't pull away. "Oh!" he says. "Okay."
"No, seriously," she insists, gesturing at him with the hand holding her glass. "Every single one of us is certifiable, you and I included. I mean, we as a group spend our ENTIRE working lives throwing ourselves at the ground and missing - can you really expect anything but insanity from people like that?"
Martin huffs a laugh, his cheeks gradually reasserting their normal colouration. "You may have a point, there."
"Of course I do, I'm brilliant," Kaidy says, sounding supremely confident, and downs the last of her drink. "Now go and get me another whisky, crazyman - the bar's paying."
For the first time, Martin gives her a kiss on the cheek as he stands, and doesn't stutter. "Coming up - crazywoman."
Kaidy just grins back at him, and laughs.
Basic background: Kaidy Hawkins is an ex-RAF fighter pilot from a dystopian universe where she now flies for a rowdy group of terrorists/revolutionaries. Martin Crieff is the only captain in the tiny commercial airline that is the focus of the BBC radio sitcom Cabin Pressure and is played by Benedict Cumberbatch.
"Stop it!" Her eyes squeeze shut for a heartbeat, and she tightens her jaw until it hurts to prevent any further outburst. A fight - adrenaline-flying while she's in it, distant and amusing in the aftermath - is the worst thing to leave halfway through, she realises. Here, in Milliways, with Martin, it is brought home how utterly alone she will be once she leaves, and suddenly she is small, and cold, and scared.
Martin is staring at her, wide-eyed. She picks up her glass in fingers which she sternly forbids to tremble, and downs her whisky, and forces a smile. "Sorry, Red," she says. "I've just - I have a job to do. I'm head of Transport, and that means when you can't come home, I come and get you. Plane or no plane."
"Even if they kill you?" Martin asks, and looks fleetingly proud to have kept almost all of the tremor from his voice.
"Hey, they haven't managed it yet. And I'm not going to make it too easy for them, don't worry." Kaidy shrugs, more comfortable now as the bravado wraps around her like a blanket. She lights a cigarette, the slow, familiar movements relaxing her just as with the ritual of making tea. She will follow this to the end, whatever it costs her. "Look, Martin - I chose this," she tells him, quieter and more serious. "I knew the risks before I jumped. And I don't regret the choices I've made."
"So you have seriously not had a relationship since university?"
Martin dumbly shakes his head, cheeks a rich crimson colour that would doubtless give a medical professional serious concern for his blood pressure.
"Sorry to sound disbelieving, but HOW?" Kaidy demands, raising her eyebrows at him over her glass. "You are a cute young airline captain with cheekbones that could cut glass at fifty paces - most pilots seem to have more difficulty NOT using their stripes as a first-class ticket into the underwear of their choice."
Momentarily stymied by both the conversation topic and her comments on his looks, Martin manages to mumble something semi-incoherent on the subject of 'no money'.
"No MONEY?" she demands incredulously, eyebrows reaching ever-giddier heights. "I'm sorry, this is a dreadfully personal question, but how on earth do you manage to have no money on a captain's salary? Do you bathe in the stuff?"
Oh God, oh God, if there was one person in the multiverse he didn't want to admit this to, it was her. Martin clears his throat frantically, trying to force the words to take shape. He already knows there's absolutely no point at all in trying to lie.
"I, er."
Kaidy waits, patiently.
"Erm..." Martin tries again. "My, er, my boss, Carolyn, I was at the interview and I knew I wasn't going to get it, so I said I'd work for nothing if she'd make me the captain. So she did, and I do."
"Ohhhhh." Suddenly, a great deal about Martin is beginning to make sense, and she feels rather guilty for bringing the subject up. Only one thing for it...
"Me too, actually," she admits, making Martin stare. "I got kicked out of the RAF with all the other women, and the only person who'd let me fly made it quite clear that she couldn't pay me. So I signed up anyway, and here I am -- just like the rest of my crew."
"Really?" he asks, sounding like a child told that Father Christmas really IS real after all. "You don't get paid ANYTHING?"
Kaidy nods. "Mmm-hmm. We get paid in food and adrenaline, but that's it," she says, and takes another sip of her whisky. "And you know why that is, right?"
"No-oo?" He shakes his head again and she leans in close as if offering him a deep dark secret, her voice hushed.
"Because pilots ... are all CRAZY."
Martin laughs, startled, though he doesn't pull away. "Oh!" he says. "Okay."
"No, seriously," she insists, gesturing at him with the hand holding her glass. "Every single one of us is certifiable, you and I included. I mean, we as a group spend our ENTIRE working lives throwing ourselves at the ground and missing - can you really expect anything but insanity from people like that?"
Martin huffs a laugh, his cheeks gradually reasserting their normal colouration. "You may have a point, there."
"Of course I do, I'm brilliant," Kaidy says, sounding supremely confident, and downs the last of her drink. "Now go and get me another whisky, crazyman - the bar's paying."
For the first time, Martin gives her a kiss on the cheek as he stands, and doesn't stutter. "Coming up - crazywoman."
Kaidy just grins back at him, and laughs.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-04 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-06 10:50 pm (UTC)*HELPFUL!*