He wraps his arm immediately around her waist, turns his face to her hair, and wonders if they've ever been this close before. The kiss. A half-dozen solitary moments in spaces too small to avoid contact. But never like this, not with this kind of desperate... something. He shudders, feeling the cold of the wind through the broken glass in front of the pilot's chair. Her picture sliding down the dash over the trembling needles he didn't know how to read.

"Hi." There's something else to say, there's a million other things to say, but... "Hello. Hi."

He laughs, and it comes out strangled. "Am I late?"