The rideshare arrived. He got in, confirmed the address, and watched Atlanta's sister city slide past the window in gray streaks.
After the rideshare dropped him at the station offices, Grant took two minutes in a restroom to wash his hands and look at his own face. He did not look wrecked. That was its own discipline. He had known men who carried every insult in their posture until the posture became the insult's victory. He dried his hands, adjusted the sweater, and walked into the meeting as Director Cole, which was not a costume so much as a tool he refused to let strangers break.
He answered two emails about Dallas. He did not open the company social listening dashboard, though he knew someone in communications probably would if a video surfaced. He hoped one wouldn't. Hope was not a plan, but sometimes it was all you had between meetings.
***
The station managers' meeting was in a windowless room that smelled like dry-erase markers. Grant walked them through diversion authority, MEL communication standards, and the difference between a weather delay that protected the operation and a weather delay that merely protected someone's preference for an on-time departure metric. He was good at this. He had always been good at this. Competence was one of the ways he stayed upright in an industry that still sometimes treated Black leadership as an exception to be celebrated or an error to be questioned, depending on the room.
A woman from the Charlotte station asked a smart question about communication trees when directors were airborne. Grant answered without mentioning that he had, that very morning, been the airborne director in question. Afterward, a young station manager named Brett hung back. Brett was earnest in the way of people who had not yet been sanded down.
"Sir—on the inbound today. I heard there was an issue in first class."
Grant zipped his bag. "There was a passenger issue. It's handled."
Brett hesitated. "If you want, we can pull the seat map and—"
"No," Grant said. Gentle, final. "If she files, customer care can do what customer care does. I am not turning a bad interaction into a career event for a stranger unless safety or harassment policy requires it. This doesn't."
Brett nodded, chastened and possibly relieved. Gossip wanted fuel. Grant refused to be the pump. He shook two more hands, declined a third cup of coffee, and left for aftercare with enough time that Eli would not have to watch the door.
***