He tapped three fingers against the arm rest.
He shifted, and reached into his pocket to squeeze his fingers around the warmed plastic of his mobile, and then shifted again, taking his hand back out.
He tried to hum, but it had been almost an hour since the drink cart had come around, and his voice was scratchy. It made him want to cough, so he stopped. He smiled nervously at the lady across the aisle from him.
"Please wait until we get off of the sodding plane before you have a nervous breakdown," Patrick muttered sleepily. Charlie jumped, having not even realized that he was awake.
"Sorry," He said, and stilled his fingers and his foot, which he hadn't even realized had begun moving as well. "It's just..."
"Your kid, yeah, I know," Patrick's smile was weary and amused. It had been a long week for all of them - seven shows in five days.
"He's not a kid," Charlie said defensively. "He's not that much younger than me."
"Whatever you say," Patrick yawned again, and then sat up just as the loudspeaker crackled to life with a warning that they would soon be landing. Charlie's heart rate doubled. Geoffrey knew what time to be there, and there plane hadn't been delayed. He knew what gate to be at, and what Charlie was wearing. But that didn't stop Charlie from worrying.