For a few precious moments, Drake felt wonderfully vindicated and quite pleased that Starling seemed to be affirming his reasoning. He had even closed his eyes and begun nodding his head to acknowledge mutual understanding.

“Maybe twenty-four hours?”

His eyes snapped open. Uh-oh.

“Uh…”

As she continued, familiar alarms and klaxons started ringing in his head.
It may be a different person with a different accent from a different time, but he’d realized that he knew that careful, measured tone, and he knew what was hiding beneath it.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He got off on the wrong foot with most people, who cares about one more? When lives were at stake, it didn’t matter who liked him or not, as long as he knew what he was doing. Still, he was finding himself staring straight ahead, unseeing, and trying very hard not to let his shoulders do that rounded thing that let his team mates know he was feeling tired and hungry.

He wasn’t sure if she expected an answer, but she wasn’t about to get one for a few minutes, at least, even though there was a great deal he’d have liked to say, if only his mind hadn’t gone blank.