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// On the silver wings of morning. 
// Story: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 
// by Android 
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When we were kids, I used to hate it when she busted me like this. She was no cunning linguist but she had a way of using just the right words to get under my skin. At least, at the time it seemed like magic. Still, she got a kick out of it. Even then, when I was younger and fuming at her words, I still found it fun to watch her laugh.
“You know,” She elbowed me. “We keep this up we’ll be married when we’re grown-ups.”
“Stop it!” I shoved her. We’d just finished our track meet and were sitting on a nearby playscape, eating snacks and drinking water after a good set of runs. Our parents were taking a bit longer than usual, talking with each other and overall having as good time as we were. We didn’t mind, it gave us more time together before we had to go home.
She laughed. “Why do you think your mom and my mom want us to play together all the time?”
“No!”
“Oh don’t be a baby! What? You think I have cooties or something dumb like that?”
“Probably.”
“I don’t think you do. You wouldn’t stick around with me like this if you did.”
“Girls are icky.”
“And yet your best friend is one.”
“You’re not a girl.”
“Yes I am. Just because I don’t dress in pink like those frilly sissies doesn’t mean I’m not a girl.”
“Well you don’t act like one. You do boy things with me.”
“Because boy things are fun. Tea parties are boring.”
I laughed. “Yeah they are.”
“So, best friend, what shall we do today?”
“Anything but a tea party.”
“Sounds good.”
She took a swig from her water.
“Wanna get married?”
“Stop it! Why do you keep doing that?”
“The face you make. You turn into an apple. It’s funny.”
“Humph. You could at least do something funny too.”
“Hmm, nah. I can’t just be funny on the spot. Not like you.”
“Stop it.”
“Spitfire and Campion sitting in a tree. K I S S I N G.”
“Aw come on! Why are you singing that now?”
“Eh, I don’t know. It sounds funny. And the ones who started that are idiots.”
“I wish they’d stop. We are not in love with each other.” I crossed my arms.
“You got that right.” She said taking a bit from a granola bar. “At least not yet.”
“Stop it!” I blushed. 
Spitfire started giggling and fell over, holding her stomach.
Our parents came over. They seemed happy. Spitfire managed to get her giggling under control and looked up.
Spitfire’s mother spoke first. “Having fun?”
Spitfire laughed. Funny how much I enjoyed the sound of her laughter, even back then.
“Yeah.”
“She keeps teasing me.” I frowned.
“Oh sweetie.” My mother smiled. “It’s because she likes you.”
“Do not! He’s just my friend is all!”
Our parents shared a glance before turning to face us.
“How would you two like to go to Six Flags today?”
We perked up.
“YES!” 
“Well, hurry up and pack your stuff up and we’ll leave.”
“You mean it?” Spitfire asked, excited puppy eyes taking over her face. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“Can we ride the Zapp roller coaster this time?”
“Only if you’re tall enough.”
We both shared a look and smiled. 
“I think we’re both tall enough.” I said.
“Well then get moving.” My mom tousled my hair.
We hoped up and started packing up our things into our bags. Spitfire grinned.
“Aw yeah!” She pumped her fist. “This definitely beats tea parties!”


✧✦✧


I knew what to expect showing up like this. To my credit and my defense, she wrote sparsely in the intervening years. Actually, that’s a lie. The first few years or so of college, we kept in contact the old fashion way. Pen and paper, postage stamps and envelops, the whole shebang. And again, to be completely honest, it had been my idea to do it that way. Sentimentality at its best. But to her credit, she was all for it. 
So as soon as she left, I started getting weekly letters addressed from some strange town in some strange place way down south. I was honestly surprised that she even had the time to write during basic training, but she did. Each was handwritten, her handwriting marked clearly on the page and her prose short and concise. She wasted no time in her letters, each opened with what she had been doing that week and what was coming the following week, followed by simple updates on camp life when she wasn’t training. The last parts of her letters always made me smile. She could develop her hard exterior all she wanted, but she still had a beautiful softer side that made its way into her writing. Her sentiments didn’t go unappreciated. A lot of it was dedicated to reiterating how much she missed us and all her friends back here. 
She consistently requested updates on life back home before everyone left for college. I did my best to update her. Jane Doe number one broke up with John Doe number three, Jane Doe number two went on vacation to Asia, John Doe number four landed in the hospital after a minor car accident, etc. I provided her with simple things, reviews of movies, the weather from the past few days, some photos, and even a few care packages every now and again. I wasn’t sure how successful I was being but I felt as long as I kept writing, it would at least do something for her. More than a few times her letters would come in wrinkled weirdly in a few spots. It could have simply been water though I don’t think she thought she was fooling anyone.
Soon, however, I had to leave for university. My last letter to her had my mailing address. The experience was nice, the classes were challenging enough but nothing I couldn’t handle. Still, Spitfire’s absence began to grow more and more noticeable as time went by. Her letters still came, though lately her mailing address was somewhere a lot closer to home, which was a small comfort to me. Basic had changed her a bit but not by much. Her temper and wit was still there and just as fierce as they were before she’d left. I remember the laugh I got when I realized I had accidently sent her a letter that was half in Germane. The following week, she’d enclosed it back in with her own with the parts she couldn’t read circled in bright red with the words “WTF?!?!” in the margins. I took special care to prevent from slipping up like that again. 
The one thing that hung in the air was the question of what we were to each other. We’d gotten a few blissful months together before she had to leave but it had not been nearly enough for either of us. Hardly enough time to call us boyfriend and girlfriend, no matter how much I, or more importantly, she wanted it. Still, the effort was there on both our parts. She made her affections clear in each letter as I did in mine, though it was little substitute for having her near me. We tried, though and that was all that really mattered for the two of us.
By the time, summer rolled back around at the end of my freshman year, she was gone. Officer’s school had long finished by then and she was deployed as a commissioned officer in the Air Force. After that, the frequency of her letters decreased significantly. They arrived far few and far between for my liking, though, when they did they were more like packets than letters. Still, by then, I hadn’t seen her face to face in over a year. 
Her mother did provide a small comfort, making it adamantly clear that Spitfire still wanted things to continue where we had left off and that she still cared just as much, though likely more, than she did when she left. Still, photographs could only provide so much comfort. 
I saved every letter I’d gotten from her and continued to write her every week. Eventually, I returned to Germaney as school resumed. Our conversations still continued, thought the time between responses was agonizingly slow. Still, we were never far from each other’s thoughts as the years passed. 
Then, the letters stopped all together. I remember the last one I’d gotten from her. She was so excited! Her handwriting, which had become elegant and refined over the years had devolved back to its juvenile high school scratch, though I overlooked it. She had good reason to be excited: she was going to be a fighter pilot. I remember bursting into a wide grin the moment I read it. She certainly had done it.
I immediately sent a response back, congratulating her, letting her know how happy I was for her. I never got anything back. I’d assumed that she’d immediately become taken up with her new position as a trainee for one of the most prized positions in the military. Still, it hurt not getting anything from her. I kept in touch with her parents, though they were of little help either as they started to have less and less contact with her too. Their daughter was growing up.
Melancholy had taken root. Not seriously but enough where it began to taint every happy moment I had. I missed her terribly, though it had become clear our lives were taking us in different directions. I hated that. 
I graduated a year early though I didn’t walk. I had called up her parents, wondering if she was going to be there but they said no. She was busy doing a tour overseas, on the complete opposite end of the world. It wouldn’t have been worth it in my mind if she wasn’t going to be there. So I took my degree and moved on. 
Graduate school came next. I got in with a team prototyping reactors and began working on a thesis. Though I became focused with my work, Spitfire was never far from my thoughts. Often times, I found myself loathing her image whenever it danced across my mind. I hated the reminders. My thesis became my solace from her. Eventually, four and a half years after I’d left home, I’d earned a Doctorate for a simple breakthrough I helped make. Campion Stone, PhD. The name was nice but the title was a bit hollow.
Job offers came in droves, though I took none of them. A few of us got together and headed back home and founded our own tech company, based on a few patents we had. I still wrote to Spitfire occasionally, though now it was more to her parents. Money stopped being a problem quickly enough and I left managing the business in the hands of more qualified and less troubled people than myself. I had to see her again.
“Sure you’re up for this boss?” Purslane asked.
“I’m sure.” I said, packing the rest of my things into my duffel.
“You know, you don’t have to resign entirely.”
“You already know I’m not changing my mind.”
“Yes, you’ve made that quite clear. At the very least, you can stay on as CEO and CTO and contribute from home. It’s still your company boss.”
I sighed. “You know I won’t be able to do much. I won’t be around consistently if I do.”
“Then I’ll help you out. Let me take things over for a bit, see how you like it.” She gave a knowing grin.
“Alright. I’ll bite. How long would you be willing to hold down the fort?”
She gave a mocking bow. “As long as you deem necessary. I am after your job, after all.”
“I’m sure you are. Very well. I’ll stay on.”
“Very good, sir.”
I hefted my bag over my shoulder and surveyed my old office. It and a few other offices, one them being Purslane’s, overlooked a larger workspace below. The entire building was headquarters for our company with a series of tech labs located in the lower levels. I gave her a nod and heading down to the elevator.
“Keep in mind, this is only temporary!”
“Of course, sir.” Purslane bowed from the balcony.
I stepped in the elevator.
Purslane perked up. “Can I use your office while you’re away?”
I laughed and tossed a small set of keys up to her. She’d earned it.
“Keep a light on for me.” I said as the doors closed.
I’d quietly secured a position back home on a base near Canterlot City and had a flight booked up north to the big city. After almost six years since high school, tracking her down had been no small task, though it was made a bit easier by her mother. Spitfire’s mother could be just as persistent and as stubborn as her own daughter. Turned out she’d been under my nose the whole time, back home, right where I’d left her. Well, not exactly. Our old neighborhood was one side of the mountain city, her base was on the other. It was almost an hour drive across the mountain and city to get to her. But still, her daughter relented and scheduled a visiting date a week after I moved into my bachelor pad in the Capital and two days before I started my new job.
My apartment was comfortable and I settled in nicely. I had no complaints as I waited the required week for our meeting. I grew anxious as the day approached. Odd, I hadn’t heard from her in three years and yet, we were still technically dating in some weird way. I wondered what she was like. How had she changed in the six years since we last held each other? I guessed I was going to find out, one way or another.
The morning of our meeting arrived. I hoped on my motorcycle and began laughing in my head the whole way to the base. Spitfire was under the assumption that her mother was meeting her here. This was going to be interesting. The ride over allowed for me to enjoy the view. Growing up, we’d seen plenty of the towering spires of the city from our neighborhood, most of the city remaining hidden behind rocky mountains. Now we effectively lived there.
The city itself lay nestled atop a large plateau overlooking a lake on one side and a massive valley on the other. The road I traveled on happened to overlook the wide green pastures below. A small river cut through the valley floor and a small settlement could be seen on its edge. Soon the base came into view. It was nestled safely away from most of the city near the edge of the mountain range. 
It was a series of buildings and hangers all nestled in the fork between two large peaks that both quietly receded into the distance. A long runway followed them into the wild blue yonder before cutting off at a large drop off. A few small aircraft were in the air off in the distance, the screaming of their jets reduced to a dull whisper.
I glanced at my watch.
“Better three hours too early than one minute too late.”
I knocked my helmet and resumed my ride down to the base and the site of my new ‘job.’ I approached the parking lot. From the distance I could see three figures standing in the parking lot near the front gate, waiting patiently. Two were unfamiliar. The third was not.
I smiled under my helmet; her hair was still the same. She’d barely aged a day since I last saw her. Now twenty four, physically, she looked just as young as the last time I saw her. Still, she was definitely different. Aside from her military uniform and sunglasses, she had an air of maturity about her that mixed with her suave confident personality from school. There was little doubt that she was the one in charge. 
She had a bored look on her face as she stared at a small photograph in her hands; a large duffel bag hung from her shoulders. I approached the gate and flashed my ID and pulled up my visor on my helmet. With my identify confirmed, the gate opened and I rode in. The three pilots looked up as I parked my bike. Spitfire flashed a look of annoyance. The other two looked a bit more intrigued. 
One was a woman, no older than Spitfire with snow white hair tied back in a standard military bun. She had striking amethyst colored eyes that somehow managed to project a cold stare my way. The second was a man a good three inches taller than I and about a factor more muscular. Genetics had certainly favored him.
I stepped off my bike, my visor concealing my face.
“Is this him?” the white haired woman asked. Her scratchy voice took me by surprise.
The man looked down at a clipboard in his hands. “The guards let him in so I guess so.”
The white haired woman turned to Spitfire. “Guess this is where we leave you cap.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re dismissed. Just like her to be late anyway.” Spitfire scoffed.
I stepped forward and removed my helmet. That was when Spitfire reeled.
She’d taken a considerable step back, almost like she’d seen a dead man walking. To be fair, I probably was. Even through her sunglasses, the look of shock on her face was evident as her mouth fell open. Slowly, she removed her aviators, revealing her brilliant orange irises as the color began to return to her face.
I smiled. “H-hey girly… Long time.”
She clutched the photo to her chest. “You have no idea.”
The color began to rush back far faster than I would have liked as her face began to turn red. Her surprised look began to twist into a scowl as she marched towards me and promptly punched me square in the face. 
“Aah!” I coughed and fell to one knee, holding my jaw.
“You son of a bitch!” She yelled. If I hadn’t been holding my face in pain I would have laughed. In an instant she was six years younger. My response instead was to roll my jaw and stand up and promptly return the favor. 
She stumbled back, holding her face in a similar manner to mine as we both stared at each other. Spitfire removed her hand from her face. No doubt we were both going to have bruises in the morning.
“H-holy shit,” the white haired woman laughed.
I coughed. “Nice right hook.”
Spitfire cracked her jaw. “Nice left.”
“Captain!” the man stepped forward. “Do you know who you just hit?!”
“Yeah, I know who the FUCK I just hit. Six fucking years! Six years! I told you to come find me when you got back! You fucking promised me right after we got together that night!”
“Oh, sorry! Been a bit busy getting my degrees to come visit someone who couldn’t even bother to write back for the past three years!” I replied.
“I have been writing you! I can’t exactly send you letters from the cockpit of a fighter jet!”
The woman smiled. “That’s a lie.”
“Shut up Fleetfoot! You! I’ve been waiting here for years for you to come back to me! And what do you do instead? You go and found a tech company with some of your college buddies!”
“Oh so you do care! See, I would’ve figured you’d forgotten since you haven’t written anything in THREE YEARS!”
“That’s not true either.” Fleetfoot added.
“SHUT UP!” We both ordered.
Spitfire turned. “See, I would have considering you hadn’t bothered to bring your face around town in the better part of a decade. But luckily for me, you got yourself all over the fucking news with your bullshit! Dr. Campion Stone makes fusion breakthrough of the century! Dr. Campion Stone founds Type 1 Industries. Dr. Campion Stone becomes the youngest millionaire in history! See, it’s a bit hard to forget the fact that you haven’t had face to face contact with your boyfriend in six years when he gets himself plastered all over every godsdamned news outlet in the country!”
“To be fair, that last one only happened a few months ago. And really? That’s why you haven’t forgotten me? Not because I’ve been sending you letters every chance I got?”
“Okay.” She said holding up her hands. “I know it may have seemed romantic at the time, but old fashion letter writing has got to be the worst way to stay in contact today. You could have at least given me your contact info when you just dropped everything and moved overseas!”
“You could have at least put in some effort. I haven’t moved much over the years, unlike someone I know.”
“I have been writing you.”
“Really?! I never would have noticed.”
“I HAVE been writing to you. I just never sent them.”
“Why the hell not?”
She turned red. A blush began to burn across her face.
“Why not?”
She shook her head.
“Answer the question, Spitfire.”
“No.”
“Okay, so we’re back in high school again.”
“What are they talking about?” the man asked.
“No idea.” Fleetfoot replied.
“Because you’re an idiot that’s why!” Spitfire huffed.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes it is.”
I sighed and began walking toward the hangers. “If you don’t want to talk that’s fine. We’ll have plenty of time to get talk it out in the coming weeks.”
“The hell are you talking about?”
The man tapped her on the shoulder.
“What, Soarin’?”
“Uh, you know the new Engineering position?”
“What about it?”
“Well, uh, he just filled it.”
She turned. “What?!”
I smiled. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Sure you will.”
“I take it that my mom’s not coming?” She rolled her eyes.
“How do you think I found you?”
“You’re a dickbag.”
“Fuck off.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. Spitfire was giving me a look that was fifty percent loathing and fifty percent longing.
“You and me, in hanger twelve, right now.”
“Fine.”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the tarmac. Soon enough we approached the hanger. Aside from an F-22 inside and some service equipment, it was empty.
“So what is it?” I asked.
She turned and promptly shoved me into the wall and our lips connected. Immediately we both melted and our eyes closed. Six years without this, how had we lasted so long without it? With a small moan, she broke it and gave me a stare.
“You got good at that. Been cheating?” I asked.
“Fuck off.” She blushed. “And no. I haven’t. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I’m-I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve just been so busy… and, damn it.”
“Just take a deep breath and speak. I’m not going anywhere.”
She laughed. “I hope not because I don’t plan on letting you go again.”
“Don’t worry. I’m here to stay.”
“Thank you. I suppose I owe you some kind of explanation.”
“That would be nice.”
She frowned. “You’re supposed to say, ‘no that’s not necessary. I know.’ You know if this was a romantic comedy it’d just- ah fuck it.”
“Still waiting.”
She sighed. “I’ve been leading this squadron for three years now. I’ve focused on nothing else. This, I wanted it badly.”
“I know. I still have the letter you sent me when you got into the training program.”
“Yes. And I got farther than I ever imagined and now… well now we’re-ah! We’re just so close!”
“To what?”
“You know the Royal Flight Squadron? The stunt group?”
“Vaguely. I was out of the country for four years.”
“Well, we’re on the verge of inheriting almost every position on the team. All of us.”
I blinked. “What?”
She grinned. “We’re going to inherit the Wonderbolts. We’re the top squadron in line to replace them when most of the team retires in the fall. The majority of us are all up for it. We want to do it.”
“So what’s the deal?”
She sighed. “I never imagined I would ever get this far. Even in high school, when I wanted to join the air force, I never imagined I’d get here. Captain of my own squadron of amazing pilots, I mean, that’s nuts! And now… well this! It’s all so much.”
“If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”
“Yeah, well, uh. When I make it through training and got assigned with these guys I’m with now, it, uh, it got me thinking. Piloting jets is a dangerous job.”
“Yeah, that’s obvious.”
“Gee thanks.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“But, uh, it got me thinking about the important things in life. About what’s important to me in life.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of letters. I raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you have these on you?”
She frowned. “Well, I was PLANNING on giving them to my mother to send to you. But seeing as you’re here now, I suppose I can cut out the middle man. See, I did write to you. Whenever I could. It’s just… it would be easier if you read one.”
“Alright.” I said grabbing one and tearing the envelope. I unfolded the paper and glanced at the writing. It had faded a bit from a mixture of water damage and age but it was still very legible. I read the date.
“Three years ago?”
She nodded. “After I sent you my last letter. I, uh, I couldn’t bring myself to send you this, or the ones that followed it. Please… read it.”
“Alright.” I said and began scanning.
The first third of it was typical things about our lives, the updates we had done. The second third got me to raise an eyebrow. The writing was elegant, the prose like a stained glass window. Her language was beautiful as were the sentiments it expressed. If I had been my mother, I would have put a hand to my chest and ‘awwed’ at her words. She wasn’t lying when she said she missed me. 
I got down to the last third of the letter. The paragraph devolved into scribbles. Lines crossed out old sentences, scribbles covered up other words. It was a far cry from the previous paragraph. It screamed conflict and disorder. But the words at the bottom hit me like couple of pool balls in a gym sock.
Spitfire was blushing; blushing harder than I’d ever seen her blush before. Far harder than when we first kissed and far harder than when she boarded her flight to head to boot camp. She made tomatoes and apples jealous.
I looked up. She held another letter. Suddenly we were back in high school, in her room, holding one another in our arms. Suddenly three months once again seemed infinitely short and infinitely long. Suddenly we were teenagers again and the intensity of human experience was turned back up to eleven.
“You- you were, uh, very romantic in your writing. And, uh, I was wrong, letter writing was a good idea. Please, uh, read another.”
I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my pocket knife and cut open the next letter and unfolded it. It was dated about two weeks later and had similar life updates in it. Once again, the middle paragraphs were dedicated to beautifully expressing herself to me with Shakespearian precision and mastery of the pen. Then came the third paragraph that once again was completely scribbled over. Then at the bottom were the same four words. 
I resumed my incredulous staring at her. She held out another letter. I tore it open and read it out like others. Same format as the other two, just a few more weeks down the line. Once again, at the bottom of the page were the same four words. 
I looked up. Another letter. I tore it, read it, and once again found the same words at the bottom of the page.
Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. They all ended with the same four words. I finally just dropped them to the ground and stared at her.
She suddenly looked far too small for her uniform, the boots seeming far too big for her. Her confidence was replaced with a shyness that was utterly alien. 
“I, uh, I wrote you for three years, just like you. But… I couldn’t send them. I couldn’t bring myself to send them to you. I couldn’t bring myself to end them all any other way. I just couldn’t. I, uh, I almost started to wish you’d just stop writing me.”
She reached into her bag again and produced another stack of letters.
“I, um, I saved all of them. But, letters can only do so much for me. I wanted you back. But… you kept moving on with your life. I got to watch from the sidelines as you did great things.”
“Just like you said I would.” I breathed.
“Yeah. You proved me right. Thank you. You were doing your own thing and I mine. Still, I loved you more than anyone else in the world. But… we were going different ways and… I almost began to wish that you’d just never come back. And yet here you are.”
“I promised you I would find you. So I did.”
“Yeah, you did. But, uh, the reason I almost wished you’d stay away is because if, if you showed up back into my life like you did today… I’d have to do what I put off for three years now.”
She reached into her bag and produced a small box. She held it like it was the most precious thing in the world, her bashfulness fully bared. I grabbed her hands and held them in mine.
“Sshhh, just stop. It’s fine. Really it is.”
She looked up. “I, uh, you, really, I really want you to-”
“Spitfire.” I said.
“Yes?” She whispered.
“Shut up. Believe me, I get it, I got it. But, uh, it’s been six years since we’ve seen each other, uh, don’t you think we should catch up at least? I mean… don’t misunderstand me here. I am… flattered beyond all belief you would do something like this but… it’s been a goddamned long time.”
“Oh, uh, um, alright. I see, you uh, yeah, I’ll just-”
“Keep it.”
She blinked.
“I’m serious. Keep it for later. I haven’t seen exactly what’s inside so… it both is and isn’t. For now, let’s just get back on track for a bit. Because one day, you’ll ask me again, and one day, I’ll give you the gods honest answer I already know I’ll say. But for now… let’s make up for lost time.”
“Um, alright. Sure.” She smiled, her confidence slowly returning to her, her kryptonite gone.
“Sound good?”
“Yeah, sound’s wonderful.” She laughed. “I’d like that very much.”
“So would I.”
I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her in full view of the base. I stopped caring who saw us a long time ago. I was in love with this beautiful woman before me and that was all that mattered.
I leaned back. “Now you’ve given me something to spend my millions on.”
“What?”
“There are a few jewelry stores down the street from my penthouse.”
She scowled. “Oh HELL TO THE FUCK NO you are not! Not after I spent three years just- agh! You’re such an idiot!”
I smiled. “Music to my ears.”
“Fuck off.”
“Music again.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Really? I thought you were going to say rich.”
“Fuck off.” She shoved me.
“Oh relax. Just be happy you can go tell your ten year old self her prophecy came true.”
“You-you remember that still?”
“Of course I remember that. I’m a genius. Plus it was a memorable day. Why?”
“Just surprised is all. And I’ll be sure to tell young Spitfire of her successes.”
“And do tell young Campion that he gets the last laugh.”
She grinned a predatory grin. “We’ll see about that.”
I scoped up her pile of letters and carefully refolded them and placed them into my bag.
“So what do military regulations say about relationships with civilian contractors?” I asked.
She smiled. “Absolutely nothing. Wanna grab lunch? We can catch up for a bit and you can show me your penthouse afterwards.”
“Getting right into it, aren’t we?”
“Hey, I’ve always been curious as to what a few million can buy a person. And out of curiosity, why you’d leave your company to come here?”
“I thought it would be obvious.”
“Please. I need to hear it from you.”
“Fine. I made a promise to a crying girl that I would come back and find her. So I did. I keep my promises.”
“And I’m thankful.” She said leading me out of the hanger. Immediately we bumped into Fleetfoot and Soarin’. Spitfire turned red and immediately scowled at her subordinates.
“Sooo…” Fleetfoot said in her sandpaper scratchy voice.
Soarin’ grinned. “Captain Spitfire’s dating Dr. Campion Stone? Like this is for real?”
“I swear to god,” she gritted her teeth.
“You’re a softie!” Fleetfoot laughed.
“You wanna run a 20k because that be arranged!” She was red now.
“Eh, I don’t mind. Oh and Soarin’ I’ll be expecting my money by the end of the night.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, you’ll get your 100.”
“Fuck you guys.” Spitfire said.
I started laughing. The three pilots looked at me with smiles on their faces as we all shared a laugh at Spitfire’s expense. I elbowed my girlfriend.
“See? Last laugh indeed.”
“Once again, you’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I think I’m gonna like it here. Who says you can’t go home again?”