Ron “Slider” Kerner and Tom “Ice” “Iceman” Kazansky had noticed a kid trotting around Goose, following his every step. The two had nicknamed him baby bird, or duckling sometimes, due to the constant shadowing. It wasn’t until they found out said duckling was in fact a pilot that they became interested.

“Yo!” Slider called out one morning when Goose was alone, jogging up to him and doing a light run alongside him as they warmed up for the activities of day considering so far, they had no idea what was to come.

“So,” Ron panted, his blonde hair leaving beads of sweat on his forehead. “Who’s your little buddy?” He asked Goose, nodding forward to gesture at the great ball of energy that had ran ahead after hitting that runners high.

Goose huffed, shaking his head and smiling tiredly. “My pilot,” he grinned, a cocky smile as if it was something to brag about. “Jealous, ain’tcha?” He teased in a breathless voice.

“Jealous?” Slider mused, coming to a halt as he stared at the kid running around— which, really, the aviator was no kid at all, but just very young to be here. “Oh please, I got the best pilot ‘round.” His tongue poked out to wet his lips.

Goose came to a stop as well, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah? Well.. sure. Ice is good.” He nodded, squinting with a playful look. “Not as good as mine, though. That’s for sure. You’ll meet ‘em later. O Club. Be there, or be.. I don’t know, man.” He chuckled. “Seriously, though. And bring Ice, haven’t seen him in a long time.”