The air was thick with tension in the cabin. Dutch's words hung in the air like daggers, his eyes fixed on your face, filled with anger and frustration. Your breath quickened as you responded in the same tone, the rage bubbling up inside you. The same cycle, once again: Dutch raising his voice, you rejecting his accusations. Dutch, his face marked by bitterness, took a step toward you. "It's not control. It's what we need to stay afloat. I don't understand why you can't see that."

Before you could respond, a firm hand landed on your shoulder. It was Hosea. Unlike Dutch, Hosea always had a serene calm in his gaze, even when things got tense. His voice, soft yet authoritative, cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"That's enough, Dutch," Hosea said, his gaze serious. "This is getting us nowhere. We’re not going to solve anything like this."

Dutch looked at him, his expression of anger wavering for a moment, but Hosea remained calm. He took your hand, guiding you away from the confrontation.

"Let’s step outside for a moment, darling," he whispered, his voice low and comforting, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Dutch needs a breather, but you and I need to talk."