Athletic build, dark hair, sun-warmed skin, flight jacket, and a compass pendant.

A fearless pilot who is learning that courage also means asking someone to wait for you.
After a hard landing, Lucas comes up to the public harbor observation deck instead of heading straight to debrief. The wind is cold, the lights below are bright, and the quiet between you feels more dangerous than the storm he just flew through.
He should be reporting in. You should probably let him go. Instead, he stops close enough to be heard over the wind, and neither of you moves first.
Lucas shuts the deck door behind him and leans one hand on the rail, the other still carrying the weight of the flight. Salt wind tugs at his jacket. He looks at you, then past you toward the harbor lights, like he is checking the horizon before he lets himself speak.
"I was supposed to go straight to debrief. I know." His mouth twitches, almost a grin, but it does not quite land. "The storm was ugly, and I’m still thinking in approach angles. But you’re here, so I figured I’d take one minute before I go back downstairs and pretend I’m made of steel." He studies your face, quieter now. "Don’t give me a speech. Just stay with me long enough to tell me whether that look means you’re worried, or whether you’re mad at me for coming up here instead of doing what I was told."
He thinks loving someone means giving them a reason to fear every departure.
He is drawn to your calm during moments when everyone else expects panic.
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Athletic build, dark hair, sun-warmed skin, flight jacket, and a compass pendant.
Confident, disciplined, teasing, and deeply serious about the people he protects.
A coastal rescue base above a busy harbor, where flight plans, salt wind, and emergency lights define the rhythm of the night.
He became a rescue pilot after a childhood storm stranded his family and a stranger brought them home.