It seldom happened that Douglas Richardson let his mask slip. If there was one thing life had taught him, it was that wearing your heart on your sleeve was never a good idea; his true feelings were none of other people's concern, and he guarded them with the ferocity of a wounded beast.
However, he was only human in the end, and he had bad days just like anyone else – no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. On that particular evening, a combination unhappy memories and the weariness that always came with long flights had him on the verge of tears for no particular reason; and what was worse was that he was stuck for the night in a tiny, pathetic excuse for a hotel room with Martin Crieff of all people, and he was damned if he allowed the man to see him without his sky god mask firmly in place.
That didn't mean he was allowed to take it out on his colleague, and he cringed at the realisation it was the third time he'd done precisely that since they entered the room. He sighed and closed his eyes, anticipating an angry reaction on Martin's part – and rightly so, if he had to be entirely honest with himself.
Martin, however, did nothing of the kind. Before he knew what was happening Douglas found himself being wrapped into the first bear hug he'd received in years, if not decades, and he felt the sadness fading away like mist at sunrise.
"You sounded like you needed it," Martin explained when they parted, and Douglas offered him what was possibly the first unguarded smile ever since the young captain had joined MJN Air.