In which Douglas wonders why Martin is the way he is. Well, don't we all?

Douglas is having a quiet - and boring - night in. The latest young lady in his life (Douglas has wasted no time in seeking out female company) proved to be a disaster - interested in him when she was being wined and dined, not interested in him when he didn't actually have his wallet open - and, for the moment, First Officer Douglas Richardson, Mighty Sky God and Casanova of the Firmament, is bereft of female company.

First Officer Douglas Richardson is not feeling sorry for himself. Not in the slightest.

Admittedly, it had come as a bit of a shock when Helena left him for that bloody T'ai Chi instructor - Mighty Sky Gods are the ones who do the leaving, not the ones who are left - but he is not feeling sorry for himself.

He's just - bored.

Solved the Times Prize Crossword; nothing worth watching on television and no decent concert on the radio. Don't feel like playing the piano.

There's nothing to do.

Boring.

He could, of course, go out - go to the pub, see who's around - but he's not in the mood for female company. Not that he's feeling sorry for himself, not at all - he's just Not In The Mood. Nothing to do with the young woman before the one who was only interested in the contents of his wallet - the one who looked at him in disgust when he tried to charm her, the one who shouted 'Piss off, Grandad!'

Not that he's losing his touch. Mighty Sky Gods never lose their touch.

So very bored. So bored that for a split second he's almost contemplating phoning Martin.

Except, of course, that Martin's away.

God, he must be bored if that's all he can think of to do.

Funny lad, Martin. Worked with him for three years now, and hardly know anything about him. Not that he's told Martin much about himself, but that's different.

What does he know about Martin? Took seven attempts to get his CPL, family come from Wokingham - someone has to, Douglas supposes - one brother, one sister, father dead, lives in attic, until recently working for nothing and starving himself.

Desperate to impress people, no social skills, often incapable of coherent speech, unbearably full of his own self-importance. Obsessed with flying. Usually has no sense of humour. Easily embarrassed, incredibly boring.

Total sum of knowledge about the man with whom he has worked for three years: that he's completely socially inept.

Never bothered to find out, did you, Douglas? How long was it before you discovered he had a second job, because Carolyn didn't pay him? How long before he told you about the dreadful conditions he lives in?

Strange chap. You've really got to admire him for the way he stuck at it - kept retaking his exams until he passed them. Douglas wouldn't have bothered - he'd have found something else to do. Mighty Sky Gods never admit failure. But Martin stuck at it for all those years, spent all that money, just to end up in a dead-end job (Douglas has no illusions about MJN) where for three years he worked - and worked hard - for nothing.

And so obsessed with being the Captain. Of an airdot. And not for the money, either. Why would it be so important to him?

Perhaps because it proves something to himself. Ever thought of that?

And he was so desperate to be one of the gang in the illicit (and therefore all the more enjoyable) airfield pubs. Even though he hated it.

Like the Windsock Arms? Tried to forget that, have we? Forgotten what he said? 'Another cooler gang that I'm not allowed in - the one you left me out of.' Never crossed your mind for one minute that he might be desperate for friendship, to be accepted, did it? Proud of yourself for being so damn cruel?

And why the hell would he keep on betting the cheese tray, when he knew he'd never win, when he was bloody starving?

Have you really no idea, Richardson? Even when he told you - 'Why can't I ever win at something, ever? To be someone who doesn't win often, I could take that. '

Mighty Sky God Richardson has never, in his entire life, suffered from a single moment of self-doubt. And so he is incapable of understanding why anyone else should.

And yet - and yet poor little inept Captain Crieff has finally succeeded in finding himself a girlfriend. A girlfriend who thinks he's wonderful. An intelligent - and attractive - woman who, by her own admittance, was about to make the first move and ask Martin out. And amazingly Martin didn't take to his heels and run.

And now there's a new side to Martin - less awkward, a little less bombastic, as if he doesn't need to prove anything any more. Not so often, anyway.

Wonder what made him that way in the first place?

Dear God, it's boring with nothing to do.

And to think that at this very moment Martin - whom Douglas has pitied for so many years - will be wining and dining his girlfriend in Devon. On a romantic weekend .

Not that Douglas is jealous. Good heavens, no! Best of luck to Martin. Hope everything goes well. Hope he's sensible enough to realise that even though it may well chuck it down with rain - just coincidence you happened to hear the weather forecast for the south-west, was it? Not really that interested ? - that doesn't matter when you've got a romantic weekend planned. After all, you can always draw the curtains and go back to bed.

At least he hasn't taken the poor girl to Duxford.

Dear God, he must be bored if all he can think about is Martin.

First Officer Douglas Richardson, Mighty Sky God and Casanova of the Firmament, pours himself a cup of tea and settles down in his lonely flat to watch yet another night of mind-numbingly dreadful television.

Odd sort of fellow, Martin. Wonder why he turned out the way he did?

Hope his weekend turns out okay.

A/N: originally intended to be an exploration of Martin's character, but ended up being about Douglas instead.