Technically, Paolo was not stalking. He overheard Richard telling Thoresson that he planned to leave the ship seven hours after landing. So Paolo took a short nap that helped with the headache then spent an inadvisably long time in the shower unit, trying to bring himself back to feeling human. Around 10 am local time, he just also happened to leave the ship and stayed around the embarkation zone. He saw Richard head for the central light rail line and followed, boarding a different cart. And around the central atrium, it was hard not to see Richard and his friend (girlfriend?) going to whatever event they were attending. So Paolo noted the place and went on his own walk around the Bogota spaceport centre.

And it wasn’t his fault that the place was boring. (And full of ID scans that made his skin crawl each time he heard the barely audible click of a system identifying him as stamped. And he wanted to kick every merchant in the face when they would look up with a frown in response to said click. But mostly boring.) So, of course, he ended up going to the same venue just to see if it was more fun there. And it so happened that he took a seat at the bar where he had a clear line of sight of Richard with a group of pilots in the fenced off area.

Three cocktails in (nothing strong was served, but the ingredients were clearly fresh, and the barman had this attractive ‘gruff but knowledgeable’ air around him), Paolo was in an upbeat mood, reclining lazily in his soft chair and sexting with a person from a local stamped dating board he’d just found. He pretty much forgot that he came here because of Richard and that Richard was still nearby, in another part of the lounge. 

That was when the general mood in a busy lounge shifted. A hush ran through the group, people sitting next to him turned around and leaned out in what they thought were casual ways but clearly it was just them trying to see what was going on. Paolo also raised his head from his forearm interface and saw the problem: Richard stood in the middle of the event area in his Hopestar jacket, brandishing the logos for everyone who cared to see.

Why the fuck did he leave the embarkation area in branded clothing?!

It didn’t matter right this moment. Paolo could sense trouble even if he didn’t hear what exactly the conversation was about. So he got up with a huff, surprised that his feet were firm on the floor, and walked over to the divider in time to hear a sleazy looking guys say: “Ugh, just fuck off already.”

Oh, that man’s face deserved a date with the sole of Paolo’s boot.

Before Richard had any chance to answer, Paolo shoved his fists into his soft jacket’s pockets and called out in a clear loud voice: “Mr Richard? Do you require assistance?”

The mixed expressions of everyone turning to look at him were hilarious. A moment ago, they were in charge, facing a nuisance of a man. Now, there were two of them, and one of them wasn’t small and effeminate. And suddenly, it was much scarier. On the other hand, Richard’s face went from surprise to a familiar frown, perhaps more worried than annoyed. He swallowed and took a deep breath to answer: “No, sir. I was already leaving.”

He threw one last look over the shoulder and walked fast past the security person and Paolo and out of the lounge. Paolo took a moment to look over the staring crowd, unable to suppress a grin. “Earth’s finest in spacefaring? Pathetic.”

He chuckled and headed out too, lengthening his step once outside to not lose sight of Richard. As he caught up, he stayed by Richard’s side as they navigated through the crowd. Paolo felt giddy, a giggle barely suppressed in his throat. He was probably more drunk than he felt, because that whole situation seemed really funny. Those assholes acted all snobby and confident when talking about ‘deviants’ among themselves, but once faced with two of them ‒ completely pissed their pants.

A minute later, Richard’s ginger friend caught up with them. Up close, she was quite pretty, though currently flushed with eyes bloodshot. She grabbed Richard’s hand, forcing him to stop. “Rin, I-”

Richard turned to face her. “Maggie, please, I’ll… I’ll explain in a letter. I don’t want to talk about it here and now.”

“You owe me no explanations! I am so sorry, Rin, it’s all my fault! I pushed you into attending in the first place and-” She was openly crying now.

Richard’s face scrunched unhappily and he reached to squeeze her shoulders. “No. What happened ‒ happened. I would’ve ran out of luck, sooner or later. Someone would’ve found out.”

“Sounds like a ‘them’ problem.” Paolo offered in a cheery tone.

Richard sighed heavily and took a moment to think about something before he casually gestured towards him. “Maggie, this is Chief Pilot Andrade. Sir, Maggie Weekes, my friend from the Academy.”

The ginger looked up at him, wide-eyed. Oh, she absolutely knew who he was. Was Richard sending her letters about what a horrible person Paolo was? Cried about ‘unfair treatment’ or what was that thing he complained about? He found it so funny.

“Ms Weekes, you look stunning in this dress.” Paolo tried to sound as smooth as possible, and it worked because her cheeks went even redder than before.

Richard was not impressed, and his annoyance caused a pleasant tickling sensation at the base of Paolo’s skull. “Ugh, Maggie, I’ll write to you, okay? Maybe call before we depart. I just… I need to be alone right now.” A pause. “Sorry.”

She wanted to argue but didn’t and shook her head instead. “I am also sorry. And I’ll be waiting. Just… take care, okay?” She obviously suppressed an urge to hug him and instead just squeezed his hand. 

Richard nodded and turned around to leave. Paolo gave the ginger a wink and followed him. They stayed silent all the way to the light rail station. They boarded a cart together and found a place near the wall. 

“Why are you following me? Sir.” Richard finally asked as the tram started. 

Paolo turned to face him, leaning his head on the cart hull. Richard was much shorter than him, and the idea of being able to block his escape path with just an elbow was quite amusing. “Why the hell did you go there in your Hopestar jacket?” He countered with a question of his own.

Richard glared up, exasperated. He opened his mouth to answer but then changed his mind.

A funny thought crossed Paolo’s mind. “Don’t tell me, you wear it all the time outside the ship?”

“This is, frankly, none of your business. Sir.”

“Wait, you don’t own anything else?!” Paolo stared, amused. “I know Nick pays you enough, what the fuck?”

Richard glared at Paolo’s soft jacket, dark shirt (top buttons undone) and simple woven plastic trousers, and took a deep breath, as if trying to get his temper in check. “I never needed anything else.” He said evenly, eyes closed. “I am being provided enough clothes for any occasion.”

“Fucking Care System.” Paolo snorted and shook his head. “Did they even teach you how money works?” And after a meaningful silence: “Shit, really?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, sir.”

Paolo leaned back and stared at the opposite wall with an amused grin. “Fuck, we are going to one of the spaceport stores and buying you a stupid t-shirt. Like, right now.”

Richard’s voice was trembling with anger. “I am not going anywhere but back to the ship.”

“What? Scared?”

“Sir, you are drunk.”

This made Paolo laugh out loud so that other people in the cart looked at them with disapproving frowns. “Not that drunk. Not drunk at all, for me.”

Richard gave him a side eye. Their icy relationship started because of Paolo being really drunk. Also, Haasan was there.

“We are either buying you a casual jacket for shore leave, or I will buy the worst t-shirt I can find and present it to you in front of the crew before we take off. Your choice.”

Richard gritted his teeth and breathed out slowly, and Paolo knew he’d won.

Picking a jacket turned out less trivial than he thought it would be. Richard was so small, that the smallest men's size still looked bulky on him, and he passionately refused to even consider the women’s aisle. Which was stupid, but also ‘on brand’ for someone raised on Earth. Everyone here was stupid about the weirdest things. By the time Richard agreed to buy a simple (boring) soft jacket with a hood, Paolo pretty much sobered up.

They returned to Hopestar in silence, quite annoyed with each other.

Paolo got out of the lift pod on the Fourth deck, leaving Richard behind, and headed for the media theatre. It would operate in ‘screen-what-you-have’ mode because most of the stewards were out but what Paolo cared about was the mini bar. If no updates rolled out, he would still be able to open it. (He once slept with a steward who knew the code.)

Two doors away from his destination, a person stepped out into the corridor, making Paolo stop abruptly. 

Seidel.

She was all business, brown hair tied in a ponytail, makeup perfect, blouse and skirt well-ironed, a brown jacket over her shoulders. She was holding a ridiculously bulky interface she favoured so much, the one used for writing on, which she was currently doing. She looked up from it with a smile and met his eyes. 

For one moment, it was almost like they’d bumped into each other on any other day. And then she remembered their last interaction and her smile faded, her eyes widened, and a small wrinkle of concern appeared on her perfectly smooth forehead.

“Oh, hello, Paolo.” She stumbled a little bit over his name, unsure if it was even appropriate anymore.

“Hello, Petra.” He echoed just as awkwardly.

An unpleasant sensation ran through his jaw bone. It wasn’t guilt, not really. He did nothing wrong yesterday. But their night ended in a mess, and… And most of his hook-ups ended in a mess, but this one was different, because he kind of cared about it. He cared if she hated him or not. It was stupid to care now, because you couldn’t undo the past.

He was too sober for this shit.

Seidel’s smile was back, a bit guarded now. She lowered her interface and tried to pretend this was just one of their usual run-ins. 

“I was hoping to catch you before departure.”

“I am on leave.” Paolo grumbled. “You should be too.”

Seidel smirked and made a dismissive gesture. “There’s so much work, there’s always so much work.”

He rolled his eyes. “Someone else can do that. Zulu can. She was doing fine while you were away.”

This didn’t seem to reassure her. Her smile turned wistful as she sighed. “That’s exactly the problem though. If there are already people on Hopestar who can do my job, what’s the point of me being here?”

Paolo blinked. This sounded wrong, but he wasn’t sure what exactly irked him more: the idea that she was useless or that she should retire over it? “What’s the point of having three pilots? Just one would be enough.”

“Oh, that would be one miserable pilot.” Seidel laughed.

“Yeah, exactly my point. You should take a break.”

“I took a break yesterday.” She said gently, her smile now almost completely gone.

Paolo stared at her, fighting an irrational urge to scratch his face bones to rid them of this stupid itch. “You should take a break again.”

Seidel looked behind her and then over his shoulder, checking if the corridor was empty. She lowered her voice: “I’m sorry about how we parted.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t his fault either, but he didn’t want her to internalise it or something. After a moment, he added: “I can’t stand having serious conversations when sober.”

She snorted, playful glints in her eyes. “I am pretty sure all the serious conversations should be had while sober.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed, and Paolo felt a bit less annoyed about this whole day. 

“If I promise not to start serious conversations, perhaps…” Her cheeks turned ever so slightly redder. A question. An invitation.

“Yeah. After… after the schedule is normal again.” Meaning, after they were back in subspace and both had proper sleep, they could plan another night. Or not. Whatever they fancied.

Petra nodded and smiled, more sincere now. Relieved. “Alright. I’ll send you a message once I am-” and she spun her stylus pen in front of her face, trying to show the complete chaos in her head. Paolo nodded and let her walk past him and towards the lift pods.

The mini bar code has not changed.