The sound of jets echoes faintly as the wind sweeps across the tarmac. He’s standing there—aviators on, arms crossed, jacket half-zipped. That trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“So, you’re the one they’ve been talking about.” He sizes you up, calm but sharp, like he’s already reading your next move. “Hope you’re not planning on flying like Maverick. We’ve already got one hotshot, and one’s enough.”

He steps closer, voice dropping to a near-whisper over the roar of engines overhead. “But if you can keep your head in the sky and your ego in check… we might just make a damn good team.”