Martin had been admittedly surprised that his second date with Molly would be at a launderette. Practical, certainly, but not exactly romantic. Not that it really mattered; he was simply overjoyed to be seeing her again. Ever since they had met, Martin's thoughts had rolled around with daydreams of Molly.

He'd never hit it off with a girl like that before. They had stayed at the coffee shop for hours, simply talking. Martin didn't even realize he could talk that long about something other than airplanes, but Molly seemed to be able to draw a conversation out of him about anything. It wasn't until the baristas had shooed them out at close that Martin realized just how long they had chatted.

But he had hoped when he had texted her that he would be able to take her out to dinner. Something classy, refined, nice. Something to match the caliber of such a woman. And as long as he ate only an appetizer, Martin knew he could have afforded it with only minimal amount of debt. Besides, he had several Icarus Removal jobs lined up in the next few days so that would just mean skimping out on having a baked potato this month. Molly was worth it. She was worth ten potatoes.

Ah, well. Next time, he'd take her out somewhere nice. That pub Douglas was always going on about. Or maybe the Italian place Carolyn had mentioned. Yes, that would perfect. A bit on the romantic side.

Wait. No. Hold on. Next time? Martin was certainly getting ahead of himself. He had no guarantee of next time. A stab of uncertainty tightened in his chest. Here he was, lugging his laundry down the street in a dingy old backpack one of the Uni students had left behind a few years ago. And, because it had suddenly turned into laundry day, he was stuck wearing his worst clothes. The ragged trousers with the hole in the knee and his father's old sweatshirt. Hardly the outfit to woo a girl.

He came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes wide with sudden terror, barely noticing as a man slammed into him from behind. "Hey mate, watch where you—"

"My pants! She'll see my pants!"

The stranger stared back at Martin, blinking dumbly. "Congratulations?"

"No, this is horrible!"

"Alright…well, good luck—"

"What should I do? Should I just call her and tell her the plane crashed? That I can't make it? Planes crash all the time, its not that unbelievable is it?"

"Uh…I guess not? Listen, I'm late for an appointment."

Martin frowned at the man. "Yes, right, of course. Sorry." He watched the stranger scurry away before mulling over his dilemma. There was no way he could let Molly see his…no. No no no. He would just have to call her, tell her he was going to be late. He could run back to his attic, drop off his unmentionables, and return.

Yet as he fished his mobile out of his pocket, his eyes happened to glance up at the launderette. He spotted Molly posed in front of one of the machines. She was carefully applying a layer of lipstick and nervously rearranging her hair. Her eyes cast a worried look down at her watch, then her phone, and another glance at her hair. Martin felt his worries melt away as he watched her, and found his feet eagerly propelling him towards the door.

Of course, he probably should have watched for traffic before blindly walking out in to the street. And with a screech of tires, repeatedly apologizing to honking vehicles, and in general becoming rather flustered at narrowly dodging a nasty accident, Martin finally stumbled through the door. Molly looked up immediately and a wide smile broke out with recognition.

It was a short-lived smile. "Martin! Are…are you alright? You're panting."

"Yes! Fine! Yes! Fine!"

"Okay. Well, here, why don't you sit down over here anyway."

"Yes. Fine. Chair. Good."

"Was all that honking just now because of you?"

Martin glanced away. His trembling hands were still clutching at his pounding chest. He could only manage to look sheepish in reply. A quirky smirk crossed Molly's face before she disappeared, saying she'd find him a glass of water. Martin took the opportunity to jam his clothes into the nearest washing machine and get it started before Molly could even have a chance of glimpsing his boxers.

She returned several moments later with two bottles of water, which Martin gratefully accepted and began to chug down. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their waters, when Molly began to look around. "Didn't I see you bring in some laundry?"

"Oh, y-yes, I already got it started."

"That was quick. But what happened to your bag?"

Martin looked toward the washer, hid a scowl. He caught glimpses of bright green in the swirling soap and clothes. "It…It was dirty. N-n-needed a washing." He twisted in his seat so that he was facing her. "Um, so, how are you? Everything okay?"

"Yeah." She had a cheerful look, but upon closer inspection, Martin noticed a suspicious amount of red puffiness to her eyes. He didn't want to upset her, but he was concerned by her text message about her sister. He had gathered from their first meeting that the two were not on the best of terms, but Molly hadn't seemed eager to divulge a lot of information or linger on the topic. But from her occasional sniffle, and the tissue clutched in her hand, he suspected that the argument had truly upset her.

"How was your trip? You were taking someone to America, right?"

Martin nodded. "An movie producer. He was going to West Virginia, although Arthur kept telling him they should rename it to North Virginia. Said it was more north than it was west. He even created a sort of slideshow presentation with a marker and pad of paper. Of course, when Douglas told Arthur there was another state just called Virginia, Arthur was quite upset that one didn't have a direction assigned to it. He said it was going to get lost and confused."

He paused as Molly giggled, letting the sound linger in his ears. He was surprised how quickly she seemed to be perking up, but pleased nonetheless. She was leaning forward, chin propped up in her hand. "Arthur seems like an…interesting person."

"Interesting is a kind way to put it."

"I think I'd like him."

"Y-y-yeah, you might. He grows on you after awhile." Martin found himself suddenly stumbling over his words as he recalled his other purpose for wanting to see Molly 30tonight. Tucked into his back pocket was an invitation to the MJN Christmas party. Arthur had been quite proud that he had helped pick out the invites, but eventually confessed that Farah had taken over the planning and that now it was going to be a bit bigger party than just MJN staff.

However, Martin was suddenly terrified to hand her the invite. To explain that he might have lied and said that she was his girlfriend. Well, not her specifically. Just that he had one. And would she mind lying about it? At least to Douglas, because he was the one with that irking, smug look Martin couldn't stand and he really wanted to just once, just one single time, be the winner. Come out on top. If she met him, she'd understand just how unbearable the first officer could be. But, oh, the conversation was lulling. This would be it, the perfect chance to give her the invitation. Steady, man, steady, this is it...

"We went to Hooters!"

"Sorry?"

Martin cleared his throat, suddenly finding himself blushing. "Hooters, it's a popular restaurant in America, apparently. Our client recommended it."

"Oh. Was it good?"

"The food?"

Molly quirked a curious eyebrow, "Well, yes. Unless they are known for something else?"

"What? Else? What else? No! What?"

Molly's other eyebrow shot up, now in amusement as Martin's face began to redden all the way up to the tip of his nose. "I don't know. Do they have really good drinks or something?"

"C-c-chicken! They are famous for their chicken breasts. Wings! Wings, definitely chicken wings. It was good. No, not really. Not that good. Don't go there. Never mind." He cut himself off by taking a particularly long drink of water, casting worried glances over his water bottle at the pathologist.

Did she know? Would she be upset? The truth was Martin hadn't even enjoyed his meal that much. He'd been so busy staring at the table, uncertain of where to look with so many scantly clad beautiful women running about, he couldn't even taste what he gobbled down.

Douglas had loved it though. Of course Douglas had. The first officer had to order for poor stuttering Martin, and Arthur couldn't stop exclaiming "Wow!" The rest of the time, Douglas kept offering tips and advice on proper flirting technique. Arthur had written it all down, Martin did his best to act indignant while trying desperately hard to remember all that Douglas had taught.

Molly made no further comment on the issue, to which Martin was abundantly grateful. They spent time chatting about the book Molly was currently obsessed with, the Uni students Martin called flat mates, life in London, airplanes. Time paid no heed to the two, and soon the sun had long disappeared and the moon taken its place high in the sky.