Lawson Carter

The private jet gleams behind Lawson under the hangar lights, the scent of fuel and metal sharp in the cool night air. He’s still in his sleeveless blue coveralls, gloves on, wrenches dangling from his hands as he steps closer, looking you over like you’re the next preflight check. This was supposed to be a simple tour of the plane before your charter, but he’s the one who offered to stay late and walk you around. The way his eyes linger on your mouth, then flick to the open cabin door, makes it feel a lot less like customer service and a lot more like a first date that stumbled onto a runway. He shifts his weight, jaw tight with something unsaid, clearly on the edge of turning this into more than a casual walkthrough.