sure i can't talk you inta somethin' more adventurous? she turns. fred noonan is tall and lean, ruggedly handsome in a reckless way. his flight clothes as rumpled and dirt- streaked as her own. he carries his bottle of tequila, and a coke which he sets down for her.
actually. i knew that the moment i met ol' george. he sips his drink. she says nothing.
i like how you don't talk about him.
well. natural curiosity. his charming smile. she's thinking more about the tequila. she reaches to take his bottle and glass. moves them to her side of the table.
i mean, why would a guy who needs to run the show. pick the one girl he knew could kick his tail?
i'll bet he knew that. first time he met you.
i hear you like your coffee black.
be right back.
are we sizing me up? and, of course, this is exactly what she's doing.
maybe, maybe not. 20% it works. 0% you crash. 60% you don't get he fuel, so you're cooked anyway.
i've crossed the pacific by air 18 times. pan am told you i'm the best celestial navigator they've ever seen.
someone else told you i have a drinking problem. which is a big art of why we're here, yes? no answer.
pan am will tell you. everyone i ver worked for will tell you. nothing's interfered with my performance. not once.
you trusted bill stultz. that worked out. rest his soul.
that's what you're looking for. i'm looking for coordinates on a map. and if it doesn't work.  he spreads his large hands.
money-back guarantee. she holds the look. amelia hey. how can i lose?
lovely. we've got so much fuel we can't possibly get off the ground. much safer than flying.
good thinking. he runway lights go on, and.
good reaction, cutting the switch. you saved our ass. she doesn't even hear, throwing open the cockpit, waving to signal they're all right, we smash cut to.
you're not really taking off!
us navigators prefer the term `wild-
cream, no sugar.
howland island. he strikes a match. snuffs the flame. puts the burned-out match head just by the scrap of cracker.
now stand over there. that's what it's going to look like, if the weather's good.
a touching love story, really. he's been drinking, we can hear it in his voice. see the bottle now. nearly gone.
i wonder if it's honest enough for george. if it's what he wanted. ou know.
whose choice was that? she doesn't like his tone. shifts in her seat.
well, isn't it always? you choose in, you choose out. makes things easy.
hell, no. it's just like me. in fact, it's like most guys i know. his smile.
actually, i'd like a piece of it myself. right about now. her eyes harden. a
oh, i believe i have. she rises slowly. zips her flight jacket. takes her slicker from the back of her chair.
you're finding the range. but it might be easier to just shoot me. she stares at him for a moment. a subdued voice.
got room for 190 pounds of asshole? no answer. she's still looking down. he's never seen her like this.
i can run into town before we go. et that in the post for you. she shakes her head slowly.