[ Mako, Yancy says aloud and Mako realizes in the moment that follows after that that is something she's always wanted to hear — her name enunciated by Yancy Becket's mouth, an imperfect shape and an imperfect sound but somehow luminous nevertheless. It feels like a first step down an uncertain path, the cobbles of it unclear to Mako since they have no choice but to feel it out together in the dark. Normally she'd feel uncertainty, grapple with it and then put it aside, but with Yancy there is only a feeling of yes, a feeling of good and a feeling of finally. This is the strange contradiction of the Drift: to know somebody for such a short amount of time and yet to feel like you've known them forever. And while Mako's understanding of Yancy comes filtered through Raleigh, it makes that connection feel no less potent and it makes her own investment no less strong.

Again, an exhale like she's catching her breath. Or maybe she's smiling. (Or maybe it's both.) When Mako speaks her voice is both rueful and fond, colored by an adoration that's held back only by her own reservedness. It's not sisterly but it's not romantic either.

It's — being a copilot. ]

I didn't. [ She'd told him within hours of meeting him that she didn't think he was right for the job and she'd criticized his performance in the kwoon, not knowing that it would lead to her own opportunity. ] I knew that I needed to pilot Gipsy Danger. And I knew Raleigh was the only way I could do that. [ It's not the most shimmering admission, but at least it's true and Mako has no intentions of keeping anything from Yancy. That's the only way she could see this exchange working. ]

But Raleigh knew. [ Maybe from that first moment, when their eyes had met on the helipad, the rain pattering on the crowns of both of their umbrellas. There'd been something in the way he'd look at her, and when he'd asked her later are you a pilot, Mako knew that he'd seen something in her that other people hadn't. ]