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Harry Flynn was a right shit when he was in a foul mood. Of course, if one were to ask anyone else, they would say he was a pain all the time. This time his attitude was left unchecked, the man forcing himself to go out into the busy streets once it was clear Talbot was nowhere to be found. If he had a knack for telling people anything other than lies 90% of the time, Flynn was worried. The quiet former assassin had grown on him, and to find no note nor clue of where he had gone had the former adventurer worried. A few hours into his search, and then it suddenly strikes Flynn where he could check, and he makes an abrupt turn.
Victor Sullivan’s plane isn’t exactly the nicest thing to look at. Sure, it had only been in his ownership for a short time, but Flynn groused that he should have at least washed it. The trained eyes of a thief spotted the jimmied door, and with a slight effort, Flynn pops it open. His injured leg protests the momentary weight forced upon it, but soon he’s inside and looking around. The cabin is a decent size, Talbot sitting up from his spot on the bench that ran the length of the plane.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Flynn wasn’t one for pity, but the way Talbot gave him a tired look made his black heart ache. He joins the other, noting the small book in his hands as one from his library. “Why are you all the way out ‘ere love?”
“I surmised my presence would only upset Nathan.” Flynn reaches out and pats his knee, rewarded with Talbot moving to lean against him. It only takes a moment before Flynn puts his arm around the other, Talbot giving him a curious look. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and ever so slowly Talbot moves even closer, enjoying the warmth from the other. He enjoys it so much he ends up dozing off, faintly registering when Flynn pulls out his phone and texts someone. When he opens his eyes again, Talbot sees that he’s still in the plane, now lying down under a rather comfortable blanket. His head is resting on Harry’s lap, the thief in conservation with someone sitting across from them. Talbot can hear them speaking of Panama, and how they would retrieve Samuel. Nathan sounds out of it, Talbot shuddering when the way his voice reminded him of when Nathan had been under his drugs.
“Are you alright?” Hazel eyes flickered down when he felt Talbot move, and he’s met with uncertain grey eyes looking right back. Talbot shakes his head, but Flynn sees that flicker of uncertainty and disgust deep in those eyes.
He thinks to ask of it hours later when he begrudgingly agrees to help rescue Samuel Drake.
Sully’s plane was hardly the most comfortable thing to sit in, but then again hardly anything was when Flynn was ready for action. His left leg seemed to never stop bouncing, on the phone as he pulled up old contacts to learn what he could about the prison. Nathan is pouring over the blueprints, Elena keeping a grip on one of his hands. Her heart breaks for the way her husband has tensed up, closed off in the way he did when ready to confront heartache or heartbreak. Talbot is sitting in the co-pilot seat, having an unheard discussion with Sully as he flies them towards the elder Drake brother. There are a few hotel rooms waiting for them, and Sully has to keep Nathan from marching off just off the bat. Due to the time difference, it’s midday, and everyone is quiet and reserved as they wait for night to fall.
Sleep came to no one that night.