@ovalbound said / 005. a private jet miles high in the sky .
phil does not sleep on the plane; he doesn't stretch out or lean up against the window and try desperately to snatch a few hours of unconsciousness, and he certainly does not catch flies. it's a nine hour flight from london and he uses the time to pace air force one, talk to some of the press they brought with them about what they did outside of the usual work. (sarah met up with an old friend; darian saw the dungeons.) he asks about the food and makes a face at the fact that it's ribs and when he asks for a beer - something light, low alcohol - that familiar drawl comes out of nowhere.
you're not a barbecue fan?
frank leans up against the narrow doorframe and fills it in an entirely different way to phil; he's got his sleeves rolled up in that folksy charming way that for some bizarre reason seems to work on people, his tie discarded, looking for all the world like a regular joe on a long haul. in contrast, phil is much the same as he was when they left, suit jacket and all.
" i prefer something a little lighter for these kinds of journeys, " he says simply, a soft shrug accompanying his dismissal. he means to leave the way he came, out the back way of the plane and the press corps, but frank moves out of the way in such an obvious gesture that phil gets sucked into going that way instead. he has to move past frank to do so and when he does, the shorter man reaches out to grab his arm.
you should relax a little bit, phil. you're on the team now.
phil can't possibly begin to understand what it means when frank says that and it sinks in his stomach for the rest of the flight.
