Trajectories
Jack was tossing boomerangs again, out on the airstrip. Rei paused at the threshold of the hangar deck, right at the grooved line where the automated doors slid into place whenever the base needed to go on lockdown. The dark-haired pilot watched his blond superior position himself, curved and crafted angle weighing down his hand as he scanned the horizon for that invisible arc that would make for the perfect release. The wind was better than usual that day.
"You're swinging in earlier than usual."
"A-ah. Yeah."
Rei fumbled with his words but Jack didn't seem to notice; the Major didn't even turn around to acknowledge him properly, because the boomerang was still coming their way. He hadn't wanted to intrude upon the moment. 'Friendly' and 'engaging' were too quaint of words to describe what Jack was really like to those he cared about, to his subordinates at headquarters: he enveloped whoever he met with his warmth, breaking through the barriers that people erected around themselves with the gentle persistence of summer rain showers. It seemed like a sin to walk in on him in the few moments he set aside for solitude.
"What's the count this time?"
"Two survivors of ten."
They were side-by-side now, buffeted by the wind that seemed to be the only source of sound in the half-twilight of a Fairy afternoon. Far above their heads, another squadron was moving out towards battlefields and graves. Rei reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes. Jack paused to watch him, unobserved, unacknowledged.
Two more boomerang tosses and Rei went inside again, to where she was waiting. Jack would not return to his office until evening.