DOGFIGHT. @doesntlookgood-blog1 - Tumblr Blog

CALLSIGN: ICEMAN

“Save the flowers.”

He slides from the table he’s been sitting on, feet hitting the ground sure. When he moves closer to the young man, it’s with assurance resting across his shoulders and a certain knowledge in his movements: i can be better.

He dips into personal space, smirk curling at his lips and eyes fixed on Mitchell’s own. Head tips, as if in acceptance of something lower than expected standards.

“Need ‘em for your funeral when I destroy you.”

Can you believe this guy? Arms folded, eyes follow the almost predatory motion --- he sees the way he walks, the way he holds himself like a king around here. Doesn’t threaten him. Brows lift, lips curled, upturned smirk to show him: you’ve got to do better than that.

There’s a drink on the table, and he stretches his hand towards the glass. It’s the only moment in the time they’ve shared where eye contact’s broken. A drink, eyes up again as he takes a slow gulp. A refreshed ‘ah’ and a lick of his lips. “ I’ll believe it when I see it. ”

#plaque for the alternates. ( flight school verse )#bemywingman

CALLSIGN: ICEMAN

“ – only thing that compromises me, Maverick, is your stupid risks.”

A note of truth behind the jibe; after all, there’s no denying that even when his risks pay off, Maverick takes them, fast and loose. Risks can get make you a hero, or they can make you dead. And so he’s always flown like this, ice cold, cool and analytical and with a respect for the rules.

These days, maybe a little less so.

“What? Can’t take the heat?”

Teeth shown when there’s a smile --- stretched, and a fraction forced. Because he’s heard it before: teachers, mentors, friends, family, his R.I.O. Ambition is a thirst that often times cannot be sated. He knows it --- he’s got charm, enough of it at least to make those follow.

( The genius in the flight? That helps too ).

“ Thought you got it, Ice. ”

#bemywingman #give you your dream shot. ( main verse )

CALLSIGN: ICEMAN

“That right?”

It’s amusement and defiance in the way he meets Maverick’s eyes, the quirk of brow before he shrugs and lets his gaze drop, chewing idle at gum that’s long since lost its freshness. This is familiar — the bickering, the competition between them.

“Well if even you think I’m sloppy, it must be pretty damn bad.”

“ Oh, it’s worse than you think --- but I don’t want that in your head when we’re flying. You might get uh, compromised. ” Feigned care, dripping with the insult commonly thrown. No harm meant, not when being up in the air was just as easy as breathing was to them; not when he’s a wing man, a guy he can trust.

#give you your dream shot. ( main verse )#bemywingman

ENSIGN: KAZANSKY

@doesntlookgood

“ – guess they’re letting anybody in these days.”

ENSIGN THOMAS KAZANSKY may be young and he may have only just have been commissioned as an officer — but that had been enough to get him into introductory flight screening and out the other side, to land him NAS Pensacola, Florida. There’s a determination in the way he tackle his training, a challenge he knows he can meet.

(Say hello to the finest aviator the navy has ever seen; they just don’t know it yet.)

This one, he’s heard whispers about. Reputation, family name. Impossible to avoid the locker room talk, even if he wanted to.

“You know, I hear the fail-out rate is in nearly one in four. No shame if you end up going home, cadet.”

Notoriety common, tacked onto the name MITCHELL ( family names and forbidden stories; he’ll take on anyone that tries to prove him wrong about his father ). He’s got talent --- genius, he’s heard them say. Though words expressed are not with a puffed chest, with pride worn like the glint of metal pinned to chest; in fact, there’s hesitation. It almost cost him his place here.

He’s being sized up, a man measured against a ghost and stories that scream a recklessness that seemed hereditary. Not that he cares. He’s good at what he does, and all he wants to do is fly.

Chin up, defiant.

“ Not a chance. But I’ll be sure to get you flowers once they stick you with the alternates. ”

#plaque for the alternates. ( flight school verse )