"Sure." He set the bottle and the glasses down and then collapsed in the single chair in the room. He was wearing his formal uniform, not his flight suit, which was already an indicator to how shit his day was. Any day not spent in the air was shit, to be fair. But formal uniforms meant inspections and officers and parades.

He leaned down, unzipping his long, black boots and setting them to the side before undoing the fastening of his jacket at his neck and slowly pulling it open, as if to let himself breathe again.

"... How much would it be to keep you on retainer," he asked, his voice low, that dark thread of something like jealousy still simmering from earlier. "At least for a couple nights a week. Just so that you- so that if I can't show up you can still get paid for a night and not have to take someone else."