The heat from the ride back in the plane isn’t helping. Not. At. All. Neither is the random breeze of disgusting air you’re picking up, mixing strange outside air with that of the musk of tired men in tired bodies.

The loud AC-130 could still be blaring from outside your noise cancelling headphones, meant to keep out the noises of the plane. Yet it wasn’t enough. Especially since the men were having a good laugh through the channel and all you wanted was to shut them off. To shut the noise off. To shut the smell off. To shut everything and everyone off. Get it off. Off. Off. Off.

You didn’t realize how distressed you looked when Nikto put a hand on your thigh. That seemed to bring you out of the trance-like state you found yourself in. That the strings held tight could finally find shelter from the unrelenting bow wringing itself back and forth, without a care in the world until that string snaps.

“N-nikto…?” The words barely leave your mouth, almost incomprehensible, but he knows what you mean.

Without saying anything, Nikto reaches down on his seat and grabs what should be the mask you deploy when there’s no oxygen in the plane, but it works to filter out the smells.

“Better?” He grunts, watching you adjust with the mask.