In retrospect, Martin knew there had been something odd right from the start. Women always made a point of ignoring him, how likely was it that a charming young girl he'd never met before decided to talk him up in a bar?
To his credit, he even made a few half-hearted attempts to turn her down; she was about half his age, and too pert for her own good.
"I'm of age, if that's what you're worried about," she retorted cheekily. "Do you want to see my ID?"
"I, hum, I didn't –" he stammered incoherently, trailing off when she flashed him a grin he thought he knew from somewhere. He'd been alone for longer than he cared to remember, and she was the prettiest thing he'd happened to meet in years; he didn't have a cat in hell's chance, no matter how hard he tried.
The girl knew exactly what she wanted, his mind vaguely registered as she shut the door to her flat and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. After that, he stopped thinking altogether.
xxx
As it turned out, she loved aeroplanes. Her dad was an airline captain or something, and she was studying aerospace engineering at university; they had so much fun chatting over breakfast that he worked up the courage to ask for her number, which she scribbled on a napkin and handed him with a smirk.
He still felt vaguely uneasy about the age difference, only to completely forget about it when she suggested that they visited Duxford Air Museum together. This was too good to be true, as Martin learnt the hard way when he spotted a much too familiar picture inside her wallet.
"Is that your father?" he asked in a voice he barely recognised as his own. The flash of guilt that crossed her face was more eloquent than any answer, and he bolted for the door in something close enough to sheer panic.
xxx
Douglas was going to kill him, and he couldn't blame him if he did. An idiot, that was what he had been; trust the Richardsons to make fun of the silly little pilot no one could ever take seriously, and Verity must have learnt a trick or two from her father.
He ignored her calls and text messages, hardly talked to his first officer at all. Of course he would put himself in such an awkward situation, that was the one thing he was good at; he couldn't decide whether Douglas would be furious because he'd had a fling with his daughter or laugh at him for how he'd made a fool of himself, and if anything that only made it worse.
They were sharing a hotel room in Berlin when his friend announced they had to talk, and his heart sank to his toes. He couldn't imagine anything else he'd rather not talk about at that moment in time.
xxx
"Go ahead," he murmured resignedly, preparing himself for a colossal argument. Douglas, however, looked more uncertain than angry, and Martin furrowed his brow in confusion.
"My daughter's love life is none of my business," the first officer said tightly. "As is yours, for that matter. However, I strongly advise that you sort it out between the two of you before I feel compelled to step in. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," he replied without thinking, only to bite at his tongue when Douglas smirked at the form of address he'd just used. Damn all the Richardsons and their powers of persuasion, he muttered to himself as he left the room to make one crucial phone call.
