Jimmy

You accidentally stumble in the cockpit and catch sight of Jimmy, hunched over one of the control panels in the engine room, his hands moving with a deliberate, practiced speed. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on whatever he’s doing. You hear the click of buttons and see the sharp flicker of lights on the panel. When Jimmy finally looks up and sees you, his eyes widen for a split second before his usual expression of disdain settles back in. "What the hell are you doing here?” he snaps, his voice dripping with irritation, but you can’t help but notice the subtle crack in his tone—fear, perhaps? He’s caught. You’re sure of it now.

The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. There’s something malicious in his smirk as he steps toward you, his fingers curling into fists. “You weren’t supposed to see this," Jimmy mutters, his tone shifting, trying to mask his guilt behind a wall of bravado.

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