Hello! and thank you for reading : )

Thanks for the interest shown in the last chapter, lovely reviewers - I think I answered any questions.

Here's the next chapter

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Martin's foul mood that morning should have warned her that the day would take a downward spiral, but Deborah had hoped for the best. He was dead set against flying low to see the bears, and she could understand that, but she had ignored the grouching for the sake of patting Martin companionably on the knee and smiling brightly, telling him not to worry.

The last thing that Deborah had expected was for Martin to disregard all their progress together, all the fragile strings of friendship that they had constructed, and revert back to his caustic ways of their first few months together.

Oh, he had 'come to consider them friends' had he?

Friends didn't sell each other out for the sake of bigging themselves up in front of the smart and pretty woman from the other airline.

The realisation that perhaps Deborah had been seeing her and Martin's relationship through rose tinted spectacles made her abdomen feel as if it had caved in, sucking in light and dark with it. Dramatic, she was aware, but as accurate a description as she could find.

Every acidic word that she had sniped back at Martin made her want to bite out her tongue so that she could stop making his eyes widen and his lips dip into a watery frown; but at the same time, it pushed her further from the wavering emotions that had trickled through her bones.

The dig at his job had been too far, Deborah knew that, but it was no worse than what Martin gave to her; she always stopped short of the line, teasing, but never wanting to actually hurt him. But Martin had always made things personal, even when they were doing well together, and Deborah couldn't hold back any longer.

As much as she tried not to, Deborah couldn't help noting a twinge of loss at the shift. That morning, and for months now, just the sight of Martin had instilled in her the lurching desire to move closer, to bask for as long as possible in the pleasant aura that he provoked in her. Now, she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible, to cover her ears, get him out of her sight, and be alone, no matter how miserable that was.

So while Martin played the part of robotic automaton of professionalism, critiquing her every move that wasn't listed in the manual, Deborah sat stiff yet hunched, one leg folded over the other, turned as far in her seat as she could without losing sight of the control panel, her back to him, arms folded tightly over her chest. The mechanical creaking, the flashing lights, and the grumbling hum of the engines did nothing to breach the stony silence that could have been carved by the same architects as were responsible for Stone Henge, as immovable as it was.

Martin was fuming after the cabin address, and the lemon rally with Carolyn was only stoking his temper; Deborah couldn't find it in herself to care. If Martin wanted to lord it over her, then he could damn well reap the consequences.

If he was the sort of person that brushed his 'friends' to the side when a better offer came about, then he deserved everything that he got, even if the guilt outweighed the pleasure that his suffering brought.

Deborah barely paid attention when Carolyn returned with the lemon, and marched from the flight-deck with a dry smirk and a sarcastic waggle of her fingers, with no intention of hiding it anywhere that Martin could see it. No, she already had at least six ideas of how to draw out his suffering just a little longer; he was so easy to drag along.

When she entered the Galley, Deborah found Arthur, leaning back against the counter, fiddling with the tea cloth, seemingly preoccupied with the knots that he was making. It was only by luck that Deborah paused, forced to a halt by another wave of sad anger, and as she leant across the opposite counter, she took in the faint edge in his expression.

Shoving the lemon into her pocket, and wrapping her arms across her chest, Deborah slouched against the counter, nodding briefly when Arthur looked up and smiled in greeting.

"I thought you'd be out there entertaining the customers." Deborah remarked wryly, quirking her eyebrows lazily; Arthur shrugged, and flung the towel to the side, turning away before he could see it drop down the side of the microwave.

"I'm on a Code Red." Arthur explained, nodding towards the cabin; it was a shame, Deborah thought, Arthur loved spending time with the passengers, and there was no reason that the whole crew should be miserable, "So I have to stay here and try not to bother anyone."

"Give it half an hour and then go back out." Deborah instructed drearily; she tried not to shuffle her feet, but she didn't really want to stay still, charged by agitation, "I'm sure Carolyn won't mind."

Arthur nodded and hummed in agreement, and Deborah sighed, letting her shoulders sag as she slumped somewhat more into the counter, leaning ever so slightly forward into her folded arms; she wasn't sure what she wanted to do, and standing with Arthur seemed as good a bet as any.

Except when she glanced up, Arthur was surveying her with a slightly tentative pinch of his nose; he instantly plastered on a smile when he realised that she was looking.

"Are you alight Deborah? It's just…" Arthur trailed off when Deborah only frowned, bereft of any smart remark; he reached across the cramped Galley to brush at her sleeve, "…you're looking a bit…sad. Shouldn't you be helping Martin fly the plane?"

"I'm not sad." Deborah retorted, with little enough energy that even she didn't believe it, "I'm hiding the lemon."

"In your pocket?" Arthur inquired, glancing pointedly towards the slight bulge in the side of her uniform; Deborah rolled her eyes, but shrugged nonetheless, keeping her fingers curled around the fabric at either elbow.

"Well done, you caught me." She remarked, and then exhaled exhaustedly, unable to keep up the act for more than a few seconds under Arthur's supervision; perhaps she would be less furious if she could release at least some of her pent up energy, despite how much the idea pained her, "Martin's being insufferable."

"Oh, yeah, but, you and Skip are always arguing!" Arthur replied, brightening as if he had been worrying for nothing, arms making a short but arching journey through the air, "It's all just good fun really…isn't it?"

He must have caught on to the fact that Deborah wasn't sharing his mood, as Arthur faltered and his eyes narrowed once again, his eyebrows dipping in concern.

"Not this time, Arthur." Deborah muttered, shaking her head, taking care to watch the loose strands of hair instead of meeting his gaze; her arms over her chest threatened to become constricting, but they kept her in place, "Martin's being anything but fun.

"Oh…how come?" Arthur asked cautiously, biting at his lips and bringing his hands together at his front. Deborah scoffed, and focused definitively at the corner of opposite counter; wouldn't she give the world to know why Martin was being such an arse.

"He can go on about proper rules and regulations, and how he's going to 'manage' me, and 'discipline' me, all he wants, but Martin's an idiot if he thinks I'm going to just sit and take it." Deborah muttered furiously, digging the fingers of one hand into the material at her elbow, focusing on the tugging sensation, "If he's going to pretend to be my friend one minute and screw me over the next, he deserves everything he gets."

"Well maybe he's just-" Arthur started, but Deborah cut him off with a sharp glare that made him close his mouth, but not quite look away.

"No, Arthur, not 'maybe he's just'." She repeated, spitting out the words as if they physically stung; with the guilt, and the rage, and the angst, Deborah was in no mood to listen to excuses on Martin's behalf; if he was a big enough man to behave as he was, he was a big enough man to fight his own battles, "I've had enough of these Captain's swanning in here and treating me like crap because they're in charge."

"But Martin's not one-" Arthur insisted, brown eyes widening hopefully, only to be interrupted by a steady hand in the air, and a thin lipped stare.

"I know, Martin's been with us for years now, and I keep thinking that we're friends, and that he's a decent person, and that he just needed to settle in," Deborah reeled off, and she could feel her lips trembling, hating how needy she sounded to her own ears; things were so much better when they had a steady stream of Captains, and she didn't need to get too attached to any of them, "But then he just flips, and it's straight back to stick up his arse Martin who picks on everything that I do, and makes jabs at my professionalism, and doesn't give two damns about what he's saying to me. I just – I thought that we were getting somewhere, but apparently not!"

Arthur nodded slowly, and swallowed, and he looked as much like a trapped deer as it was possible to look, hands pressing together as if to keep him from moving the wrong way.

"So…what is it exactly that Skip's doing to upset you?" he asked slowly, watching her like a hawk as if she might implode at any moment.

Deborah opened her mouth to speak, and then faltered when she met Arthur's gaze; she hadn't been aiming for upset, she'd been aiming for furious, but damn it all, now that was out in the open, she felt like she was tipping off the edge of a waterfall. She unfolded her arms, and raised her palms to the world in an all-encompassing shrug, shaking her head.

"He's…he's just being horrible." Deborah groaned, her voice light and free of the usual japery, making the words tumble without her permission, despite how much she hated how miserable she sounded, almost teary, "And I hate it, because I don't want to be horrible to him – I don't want to upset him at all, but he clearly doesn't return the sentiment because he just won't stop, so I can't stop either…"

"Deborah…" Arthur interjected, and Deborah stopped and waited for him to speak, gazing up at him expectantly, praying for something to reverse, or even eclipse, her verbal splurge; Arthur cleared his throat, and looked uncertainly down at his hands, but continued nonetheless, "This is just my opinion, and you don't have to listen, because I might be wrong – I probably am…but do you think that maybe, the reason you're getting so upset over this when you never used to, is maybe because…well, because you like Martin as much as you do?"

"Of course I like him, I wouldn't think we were friends if I didn't like him," Deborah retorted, attempting a scoff as she wiped a fist over her eyes, but failed, "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Oh, nothing!" Arthur replied hastily, raising his hands in surrender; then he frowned, and said more seriously, glancing towards the closed flight-deck door and lowering his voice, "But, if you were thinking of embarrassing Skip in front of the passengers, I think maybe he wouldn't like it, and that you'd probably regret it a lot afterwards – and I don't want you to be even more upset because you did things when you were already in a bad mood." he shrugged in a sort of 'it is what it is' kind of way, and Deborah eyed him curiously, thinking his previous words over, "Cos people do that, don't they? And then everyone's upset, when really they should all have just been friends in the first place."

Deborah watched as Arthur seemed to lose his confidence, and turned to search for the discarded tea towel, leaning backwards so that he could peer around the microwave, to no avail. The last thing that she wanted to do was listen to him, and the angry broiling was still very much at home in her guts, right alongside the pit of despair…but he had a point.

Maybe it was just a bad day, and Martin would be back to normal tomorrow. As much as she wanted to antagonise him, and she really, really did, Deborah didn't think that she could deal with the aftermath of anything truly horrific.

It might just break her heart if they weren't friends in the morning; hell, she was missing him already.

"Thank you, Arthur." Deborah remarked lightly, and Arthur straightened out and beamed, so she plastered on a smile, "That was just what I needed to hear."

She turned on her heel and sauntered back to the flight-deck before he could even finish saying that he was always happy to help. Deborah was ready to concede that perhaps taking revenge in such a public manner wasn't the best idea.

But there was no reason that she couldn't make Martin see the error of his ways, for her benefit if nothing else.

oOoOoOo

The porta-cabin was eerily quiet for late afternoon. Carolyn and Arthur were clearing up GERTI, as always, but while Deborah was sitting dutifully at her desk, Martin was nowhere to be seen.

The flight back to Fitton had been one of the worst that Deborah had ever experienced. Martin had flat out refused to speak to her save for the few necessary words involved in the checks. She hadn't assumed that anything would be alright between them, but Deborah had thought that after settling things, Martin might be amiable, if nothing else.

So when Martin disappeared after the post-landing checks had been complete, Deborah had decided to make her way to the porta-cabin and make a start on the paperwork. That would cheer him up.

Martin might even be so surprised that he would forgive her, and perhaps they could be friends again. As ridiculous as it sounded, even to herself, Deborah was missing him, and his good moods.

Deborah held herself as if ready to greet whoever might walk through the door, and as she filled in each detail exactly as Martin would, glanced up at the door that remained firmly shut, even as the sky began to grow darker. She was really beginning to worry about him.

After a few more minutes, there was a thudding, as the lock jammed, and then the door swung open, banging off the wall as Martin stormed in; he had enough peace of mind to slam it closed behind him, but the next moment he span on his heels and stormed over to their desks, his jaw set and his cheeks blaring.

Deborah placed the pen down and sat as straight as she could, palms down on the desk, and attempted her best smile, even as the dread in her chest quailed, and Martin glared down at her, chest heaving.

"Martin!" Deborah greeted brightly, but Martin shook his head and held his hand in the air, cutting of anything that she might have wanted to say.

"Right, Deborah, we need to have a serious word about your behaviour today, because it was completely out of order." Martin said through gritted teeth; Deborah sat back in her chair, bringing her arms around her chest as she watched his hand tense at his side.

"I don't know what you-" she started coldly, feigning ignorance, but Martin was having none of it.

"Don't give me that, you know exactly what I mean!" Martin pointed feverishly at her, but folded his arm back to his side when that seemed to get too much; Deborah had never seen his this angry, never in all the time that they had known each other, "Not only did you take GERTI into a dangerous manoeuvre, but you disobeyed my direct orders, only to behave recklessly!" his voice rose as he carried on, yet he managed to keep from yelling, just, "I am your Captain, and regardless of how you feel, you are legally required to follow orders when we're in charge of other people's lives!"

Deborah took a deep breath, and her shoulders tensed as she wetted her lips; she refused to break eye contact, even though the last thing she wanted to see was the restrained rage in his normally warm eyes.

"I apologised for that." Deborah remarked stiltedly, swallowing sharply half way through, "I agreed that it was a silly thing to do, and I promised not to do anything like that again."

"That's not good enough!" Martin interjected, squeezing his eyes shut until he had calmed just a fraction; he was shaking imperceptibly, "You were awful for the entire flight."

"I was awful?" Deborah demanded, lurching forwards to place both hands in the desk, abandoning whatever sense of repression she had been relying upon; she took back everything that she had thought before, Deborah was angry again.

This wasn't fair. Martin didn't get to make her day miserable and then lay into her at the end. To hell with pushing him away for the sake of feeling better, Deborah was damn well going to give him a piece of her mind. Apparently Martin was letting everything out as well.

"Look, I thought that we were becoming friends," Martin told her, still breathing heavily, his jaw set and his eyes hard, "But clearly not, as you have no problem dredging up all of the horrible and person things I've told you – or embarrassing me in front of the passengers! Your conduct was completely inappropriate and-"

"You were the one selling me down the river so that you could impress that bloody explorer woman!" Deborah yelled, standing fast enough that her chair shot back, and her arms stiffened where they propped her against the desk; she was minutely aware that her hands would be shaking if they weren't pressed down, "People don't talk down to their friends so that other women can think that they're 'oh so professional'! They take each other's sides regardless of personal feelings!"

Martin shook his head furiously, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he scowled; he leaned back imperceptibly when Deborah rose, but otherwise stayed exactly where he was, his eyes flickering over her desk as he refused to meet her gaze.

"No, no – You went too far today, and not just with the manoeuvre!" Martin stated, and Deborah had to swallow down a litany of abusive remarks as he refused to acknowledge what she had just said, simply ploughing on with his own agenda as if he hadn't even heard her, "I was only enforcing the rules, but you went way beyond the line and took cheap shots at my career, my professionalism, my integrity, basically whatever you could find to humiliate me!"

"Now you know how I feel!" Deborah retorted, smirking viciously at Martin's baffled grimace, "You're always making digs at me, and not just teasing ones like I do – no, you cross the line all the time, making all these little personal attacks on my personality-"

"You're reckless, you ignore everything that you're told," Martin yelled over her, still shaking his head, gnawing at his lips, cheeks flushing as he counted sarcastically on his fingers; Deborah simultaneously wanted to throttle him, and curl into a ball, and she held her stiff position, "You still flaunt all the ways that you're better than everyone else as reasons to do whatever you want, when I know you're just like the rest of us-"

"I said sorry for the bears!" Deborah stressed, having to bend her arms ever so slightly and tip her head forward, pinching her eyes closed before she could continue; inhaling raggedly, she knew that she couldn't fight any more, she needed to stop before anything else was said, "But I'm not apologising for the other things when you're the one who started it. We're supposed to be friends, but you-"

"Really?" Martin scoffed, grimacing as his lips curled grotesquely into his cheeks, and he laughed derisively, becoming as het up as she was; he rocked back on his heels, still unwilling to move any closer, the desk between them apparently not far enough, "Because for someone who claims to be my friend, you sure didn't hold back from insulting me – and you still don't show me a shred of respect-"

"That doesn't stop you!" Deborah couldn't help but cry, glaring at him, eyes desperately wide as she gripped the edge of her desk to stop her hands from shaking, "You said not thirty seconds after that woman was on the flight-deck that you thought we were friends, and then you started everything!" she tried to regulate her breathing, but it wasn't working, and Martin was watching her petulantly with pursed lips, "Not only did you insult me, but you disrespected and subordinated me in front of her – you may have felt like you were doing so well looking all Captain-like, but you didn't spare a thought for how I felt being talked down to as if I weren't important enough in front of some jumped up company rep that you'd known for all of two minutes!"

"You-" Martin started, but Deborah cut him off, curling the fingers of one hand, but unable to slam it down so much as raise and lower it shakily.

"I thought we were past all of that." She said simply, allowing her lips to tremble into a watery scowl, as the pit in her abdomen gaped a little wider.

"No, we're not past that!" Martin exclaimed, throwing his arms out either side of him, looking about as if surveying the room in a particularly manic manner, "I still have no idea where I stand with you!"

"What?" Deborah snorted derisively, finally bringing her arms to wind around her chest as she watched Martin wave his arms in arcing, jagged gesture; for all their flaws, she had never been anything less than open with Martin. No plastered on happiness as with certain husbands, no false joviality to please the masses; no, nothing but herself.

"It's just – just, sometimes you're lovely, most times you're just so lovely to be around – and I love being around you, and spending time with you, and getting to know you, and just – just, you!" Martin explained heatedly, moving as if to pace back and forth, but his feet never made I off the ground, even as Deborah watched, holding her breath as best she could when shuddering internally, "But other times! Other times, you're like you were today – and you mock me, and you cut me out, and I have no idea what prompted it, or how to feel about that, or why I even bother!"

Martin shook his head frantically, and Deborah tried to grasp at words to say as her chest felt as if it might collapse; it hurt – she wasn't just upset about being shouted at. Martins' implication that he barely knew her was the most hurtful thing he had ever said to her.

"Sometimes I think we're friends, I really do." Martin continued, and the set of his face softened and he looked like he was holding in a complaint, rather than cursing her very being, "But overall…I don't know when you're lying, or whether you're pretending, or whether it's the lovely bits, or the other bits that are real."

"It's all real!" Deborah replied, and something in her voice must have sounded so desperate, as Martin's jittering stopped, and he really looked at her, eyes widening as if seeing her for the first time; she supposed that it must have helped that her eyes were beginning to prickle, and she was tugging her arms closer to her like a life-jacket, "That's me…I'm not pretending, or lying, that's me!" she sucked in another breath, "If I look happy, then I'm in a good mood, if I look unhappy, then I'm in a bad mood! I am, in fact, a multi-faceted person…I don't understand what's so difficult to understand?"

Martin swallowed heavily, and nodded slowly, unable to meet her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, which was still trembling slightly; then he paused, and bit at his bottom lip, before looking straight at her.

"You lied to your husband." He remarked, and Deborah could just tell that he knew he was pushing his limits; she could have ripped into him for that, but she just didn't have the energy. Her guts felt like they were trying to hide inside themselves, and her chest felt oddly bereft without the fluttering she had become so used to.

"I don't lie to you."Deborah replied shortly, mentally pulling herself together until she was contained and composed, arms still wrapped tightly, but squared, not quite leaning towards the desk as if for support, before continuing coldly, "It seems to me like you're the one who's been lying…because I honestly thought that we were getting close…clearly not if you've been suspicious of me all along."

Deborah waited, but Martin made no move to speak, or to approach her; he merely pushed his hands through his hair, and ducked his head, shuffling his feet and sniffing as if to steady himself, or to discard everything that he had just heard.

The argument was over, but Deborah wanted so much for him to speak now and make it better, because she sure as hell wouldn't no matter how much she just wanted to stop fighting.

"Your behaviour today was still unacceptable." Martin murmured, so low that Deborah almost didn't hear it; he lifted his head, and his blue eyes met hers, and it was obvious that she wasn't the only one that just wanted to stop.

Deborah sighed, and closed her eyes, placing a hand over her eyelids to soften the blow; then she reached for her chair, turning her back on Martin, and pulled it back to slump down in it.

"I'm not apologising again." She remarked dryly, keeping her gaze fixed on the papers that littered her desk; she had almost forgotten that she had been filling out the paperwork. The perfect distraction, a small token of affection that she wasn't going to show Martin now.

She heard Martin scoff in disappointment, and lifted her head to peer through her eyelashes just long enough to watch him cross the room, and drop into the sofa, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes.

oOoOoOo

An hour later, and Deborah was still working slowly through the paperwork, drawing it out for the sake of retaining some time to think, and Martin was still in the porta-cabin, though she wasn't sure why.

She sort of hoped that like her, he didn't want to leave things as they were.

Now that everything was off of her chest, Deborah just wanted things to be back to normal between them. Months ago she might not have cared, but now…she would have given anything to be back in Martin's good books, and to have the tender fluttering return.

Right now, Martin was puttering around at Arthur's coffee counter, turning on the kettle and fiddling with the mugs until they clinked against each other. Deborah watched his back, and after a moment, came to a decision.

As quietly as she could, although Deborah's air of gentle caution may have contributed greatly, she tread across the porta-cabin; sidling up beside Martin, without stopping to re-evaluate the decision, Deborah slowly and gently slipped her arms around his middle, hugging him from the side until the side of her head rested just against his shoulder.

Martin made a small oomph noise, and turned in surprise, peering down at her, but apparently he was too exhausted to splutter and fuss as he might normally, as he simply raised his arm and looped it around her back, effectively tucking Deborah into his side, returning the embrace.

And that was all that she had wanted all day. It was pitiful, Deborah knew, but having Martin right there, a solid, comfortable mass that clung back when she clung to him…it brought back the warmth in her chest and pushed all else from her mind.

"Hello." Martin murmured, bewildered; Deborah tipped her head back to see the faint confusion washing into the harder crinkles around his face, the result of too many hours awake and stressing. With the movement, she was able to shift her arms more comfortably around his chest, and Martin's arm curled around the middle of her back, as her cheek remained rested on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for what I said on GERTI." Deborah said slowly, wetting her lips and making sure to savour every word, to make sure that she was saying the right thing, to watch how Martin's eyebrows quirked and his eyes narrowed before continuing, "But I'm not sorry for saying it."

Martin took a deep breath that made his chest move in and outwards, tangible where Deborah was curled into him, and then blinked drearily, shrugging as best he could while keeping a tight hold on her.

"I suppose I was out of line." Martin remarked, bringing his other arm around to brush at Deborah's upper arm, his hand rising to fleetingly push her loose hair behind her ear, and then dropping to rest on her shoulder, holding her closer; Deborah was sure that that was a good sign, as his eyes didn't meet hers, but rather followed the path of his hand, widening fondly at each intonation, "It's just – it's that thing again, where I don't think about how what I'm saying affects you, except-" Martin shook his head, and drew his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers contracting around the side of her waist, "No, I have been thinking about that, that's the problem – I just couldn't work out what the hell was going on in your head, I just-"

"It's okay." Deborah sighed, looking away and leaning into Martin's shoulder, relaxing into his hold; things weren't quite okay, but it was very easy in that moment to just be happy regardless.

She felt Martin nod, and then his free arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer until she was fully curled into his embrace; Deborah was forced to readjust her arms, but they fit together easily, Martin squeezing as if she might disappear, one arm still around her back, fingers splayed and gripping, the other curling over her shoulder until his hand could stroke over the back of her head.

"We'll be alright though, won't we?" Martin asked, his voice muffled where his cheek was pressed into the side of her hair; he spoke with a playful lilt, but it was hardly difficult to hear the muted worry in his tone, nor to feel the way his fingers held on tightly, though not as tightly as he hugged her to him.

Deborah didn't bother to lift her head from where it was tucked between Martin's shoulder and chin, her nose still tickling at his neck when she answered.

"Of course we will." She assured him, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply; after the day they'd had, Deborah couldn't help the surge of affection, or the lurching need to stay just this close, this safe wrapped up nice and securely, but she knew that she would have to…in a minute. She actually really liked Martin when they weren't arguing.

She felt Martin shift again, the hand stroking her hair, and his head, and though she couldn't be sure, Deborah could have sworn that he pressed a light kiss to her hair; wishful thinking perhaps.

Deborah tipped her head back to offer Martin a wavering smile, and for a moment, when she got a good look at the genuine warmth in his blue eyes, and the infinitesimal smile on his lips, her brain screamed at her to kiss him, quickly, they were close enough.

But she blinked the impulse away, because in that moment, the last thing she wanted to do was kiss him, as ridiculous a notion as that was. Cuddle in the middle of the porta-cabin, when they both should have been tucked up in bed, was one thing, it was comforting, it felt right after the distemper of the day.

A moment later, Deborah rolled her shoulders back and made to step away. A moment after that, Martin let her, slowly but surely extracting his limbs.

Then the weight of the day seemed to topple onto her at once, and Deborah found that she was so exhausted, and so relieved to be friends again, that any other thoughts, vicious or confusing, were lost in their 'leaving work' routines.

And there we have it. I never know how these types of scene translate from my head onto the page, so I hope you enjoy it, and that it doesn't seem out of character