Romero glanced at the rangers. “You heard what’s going down?”
One of them nodded. “Yep. Risky business, though I ‘spose Darby knows what he’s doing. Man is one crazy airplane jockey. Still he’s fuckin’ good.”
Daz expected Romero to bristle. He didn’t. “Crazy like a fox,” he muttered, then in a normal voice said, “We’re gonna hang out here and listen to the traffic. We’ll stay out of the way, but that’s our folks and our birds out there.”
“Yeah. Sure. No problem. Just stay cool. There could be some white knuckle moments in the next few hours.”