He is almost flattered until her crimson eyes dart away when she realizes he has noticed. A part of him thinks to jest, or tease her with a smart remark, but he only smiles. He can tell she is not at ease now, even though she does not squirm or fidget as most would. There is not a muscle under her flawless cocoa skin that is moving. She sits in the co-pilot seat beside him, focused on the controls, as cold and unmoving as stone. It had not taken him long to adjust to her indifference and often lack of emotion and opinion. He actually thought her tranquility rather pleasant.

He casts another glance in her direction, but finds her only adjusting the levels of the engine output. And when she looks to him with as much apathy as ever in those ruby eyes, he nods slightly and climbs the Strahl to a higher altitude. Once he does, she returns to gazing silently out the windshield at the bright blue abyss spanned out before the airship, dotted with sparse clouds. He sighs contentedly and leans back in the pilot seat, closing his eyes as he props his feet on the control panel and folds his arms behind his head.

He listens to her rise from her seat and then the sound of her stilettos clicking on the floor as she heads towards the rear of the cockpit. And then she stops, and he can no longer tell what she is doing. Even though it has already been six months, she had earned his full trust since day one, so he shrugs it off and relaxes further into his seat, feeling a doze coming on.

He is on the very brink of sleep when a soft rustling rouses him. He cracks an eye open, and barely catches the soft flick of her pony tail as she straightens herself that fraction of an inch. She is once again beside him in the co-pilot seat as though she had never gotten up.

‘What’s this?’ he muses, ‘Staring again?’