Potential drinking problem? Hell no, this was celebration booze. This was bought specifically for the time when this stupid fucking war was done, when Felix the Cockbite was dead, and Hargrove was fucking paying for what he had done. This was saved, unopened, waiting like a good woman dressed in lingerie with her arms wide.
This was supposed to be Happy Fun Fucking Time booze to be shared between all the Sim Troops and Freelancers.
It would have to do for now, because the heaviness of the situation was making the burn a little less satisfactory.
Tucker wasn’t sure what he was expecting out of Wash, a glass or something? Washed twice because who knew what happened in Tucker’s room? But nope, he went straight for the bottle, too, and there was a silent, mutual appreciation over mourning something that was human and not, that was…something.
That was Church.
He took another drink. “You know, when we were up there, I didn’t think any of us were coming back. Like, it wasn’t fine, it fucking sucked, but I was ready. Prepared. I was going to take as many of them out as I could, and then…whatever happened would happen. But coming back without Church, it feels more real than when we were in the trophy room.” The bottle dangled in a loose fist between his knees, the different suit casting unfamiliar shadows across the floor.
“He’s been a dumbass and died so many fucking times, and I just keep thinking he’s going to come back again. It’s kinda stupid, you know. I feel like Caboose.”
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2016-06-04 12:21 am (UTC)This was supposed to be Happy Fun Fucking Time booze to be shared between all the Sim Troops and Freelancers.
It would have to do for now, because the heaviness of the situation was making the burn a little less satisfactory.
Tucker wasn’t sure what he was expecting out of Wash, a glass or something? Washed twice because who knew what happened in Tucker’s room? But nope, he went straight for the bottle, too, and there was a silent, mutual appreciation over mourning something that was human and not, that was…something.
That was Church.
He took another drink. “You know, when we were up there, I didn’t think any of us were coming back. Like, it wasn’t fine, it fucking sucked, but I was ready. Prepared. I was going to take as many of them out as I could, and then…whatever happened would happen. But coming back without Church, it feels more real than when we were in the trophy room.” The bottle dangled in a loose fist between his knees, the different suit casting unfamiliar shadows across the floor.
“He’s been a dumbass and died so many fucking times, and I just keep thinking he’s going to come back again. It’s kinda stupid, you know. I feel like Caboose.”