just trying to eat her sandwich in peace. He was mid‑sentence, complaining about a go‑around he’d flown that morning.
“Honestly, the way some of these captains handle a simple approach, I’m surprised the FAA doesn’t pull their tickets.” He set his bag down, then his eyes landed on me. His mouth curved into a thin, humorless smile. “Speaking of which. You’re the one who brought in 2412, right? Hard landing report from the cabin crew.”
I didn’t answer. I lifted my coffee, took a sip, and let the cold bitterness settle. That’s when I knew he was looking for a reaction.
The flight attendant glanced at me, then looked down at her sandwich. The first officer shifted his weight. I’d been in this room before, in a dozen different rooms over three decades, and I knew the shape of what was coming. A younger man with clean fingernails, trying to
