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[ Maine huffs and shakes his head. "Too long." Wash's grin triggers a half smile in return. That expression? That's more like it.

[ Automatically, Maine starts lifting his helmet to put it back on. Then he pauses, remembering that release of tension when Wash saw his face, and he lets his helmet drop back to his side.

[ Maine already has a bullet hole in his armor from a sniper. Now he's going to be walking around barefaced. The shit he does for his friends....

[ A questioning growl accompanies a jerk of his head. "Let's go" and "Where to?" in one. He hasn't been here nearly long enough to find a bar. ]

[He's grateful for it. He knows that Maine is used to wearing his armour more than even Wash does, but it's nice to see his face, to be reminded that it's him, not the Meta.

Luckily Wash has taken the time to explore the area and get to know where things are. He knows just the place. A little dive bar, somewhere they might have visited on shore leave.]

Come on. I know where to go.

[ With a grunt of acknowledgment, Maine follows, watching his teammate's back all the while.

[ The dive bar is exactly the kind of place Maine would've chosen himself. It brings back good memories. Admittedly, some are hazier than others, but they're good. It feels almost normal. And, just like normal, Maine hits the ground running.

[ If he's downing his drinks a bit faster than normal, what of it? It's been a hell of a day.

[ By the time Maine starts feeling a pleasant warmth and a loosening of his tongue, he's trying to describe the kickass way he caught Carolina and York as they fell off of that building. He's chosen to do this by making a long arc with one hand while the other plummets. There are also low "whoosh" noises.

[ Don't fucking judge him. It's been a hell of a day. ]

[Yep, definitely been too long since he got drunk. They hadn't let him drink in hospital weirdly enough. Or in prison.

He leans his head on his hands and watches Maine try to explain what had happened on the mission. It's been entirely too long since he got to do this, and the nostalgia is a warmth in his gut. He's missed Maine so much that it hurts. It was worse when the Meta was right next to him.]

Uh-huh, I'm sure it was very impressive.

[ The big man huffs in mock-offense. Again, he demonstrates the awesome arc and the deadly plummet. Whoosh! As his hands collide, he grumbles something that would be completely lost on anyone but Wash:

[ "Midair!"

[ Then the arc continues, down and down, until it disappears beneath the bar. Another growl.

[ "Into a tunnel."

[ It was fucking awesome and so is he. ]

[Wash reaches over, pretty drunk since his tolerance has gone to shit since he hasn't drunk in so long, and pats Maine's arm.]

I believe you buddy.

[ Maine, on the other hand, is still in his partying prime. He's got the tolerance of a guy whose outlets consist of exercise and alcohol. Combine that with the sheer size of him, and it takes a lot to get Maine drunk.

[ Which is why, even as one part of him notes that Wash initiating contact is a welcome improvement, he decides that he definitely needs Wash's drink more than his friend does.

[ Excuse him while he smiles and oh-so-subtly (read: blatantly) tries to snag that drink. ]

Edited 2017-08-04 13:19 (UTC)

[It takes a moment but Wash does notice Maine stealing his drink.]

Hey! That's mine!

You can't steam my drink. I've waited four years for drinks! You know what they give you in prison? Water.

Just water.

[ Maine relents with a roll of his eyes — "Fine, fine" — and signals for another drink from the bartender, instead. It'll take longer, but fine. He'll wait. ]

Prison?

[ He doesn't think Wash mentioned prison. Well, there was that part about the Project locking him up and fucking with his head — Maine signals again, impatient and needing that next drink — but that wasn't in a prison, was it? ]

[Wash snags his drink back and gulps it down quickly. It goes straight to his head and he doesn't give a fuck.]

Yeah. The UNSC doesn't like it when you blow up top secret government projects. And when idiots don't turn over the evidence that shows they deserved it to the authorities.

[ At this rate, Maine will probably wind up carrying Wash out of this bar. That's perfectly fine with him.

[ The drink arrives, and Maine growls at the bartender to keep them coming. Hopefully the man will listen, because Maine's pushing the newly arrived drink over to Wash.

[ The shit he does for his friends....

[ Eventually, Maine's pleasantly fuzzy mind figures, Wash will run out of fucked up future events to drop on him. Until then? Drinks, a curious tilt of his head, and a low, questioning hum.

[ "What evidence?" ]

[And Wash will keep drinking as long as they keep coming. Being blackout drunks sounds pretty nice honestly.]

Epsilon. Epsilon remembers what they did to the Alpha. They tortured him. They fucked us up.

[ Epsilon? He frowns. Didn't Epsilon kill itself in Wash's head? As much as Maine doesn't want to think about that — doesn't want to consider the damage it caused — he leans in, seeking clarification.

[ ... But not before he turns to the bartender and barks out: ]

Shots!

[ Never mind the fact that Maine's raised voice sounds like a drill instructor from hell. Getting blackout drunk does indeed sound pretty damn good. ]

[Shots! Yeah, Wash can get behind that. He perks up a bit and gives Maine a bright smile for once before what Maine wants to know is registered.]

AIs can't properly die-die. Unless they're destroyed. They took him out of me, and they put him in storage.

[ It's a smile that Maine would like to see stay in place. Wash looks better now than when he first removed his helmet, but he still looks like shit. Not the rookie that Maine remembers like it was yesterday, because for him, it was. ]

Fuck A.I.

[ He says it with authority, like that's the definitive word on the subject. He's known about them for all of a day, but he's heard more than enough. Fuck 'em. ]

[Wash laughs softly and nods.]

Yeah. Fuck them. They can all go to hell.

[The shots arrive then, and Wash grabs one of them and downs it.]

[ Maine gulps his down in tandem. The liquor burns, and he grins. That's more like it. ]

And water.

[ It can go to hell, too! ]

Yeah! Who needs water when we can have booze?!

[ Whole-hearted grunt of agreement from this guy! He slides another shot Wash's way. ]

[Wash beams at him and takes the shot, downing it in one. Ooooh, he feels sort of fuzzy.]

[ Maine shoots his and lets out a huff of laughter. This is more like it!

[ But if they're going to continue like this (and Maine's not about to stop), he should probably figure out where to take Wash, if the rookie passes out.

[ (Not that he's a rookie anymore, is he?) ]

Where're you staying?

[Wash grimaces at the question and slams the glass back down.]

Got a flat.

[Sort of, anyway. It's the tiniest cheapest place he could find on short notice.]

[ Maine cants his head and raises his eyebrows. Why the grimace? What's wrong with it? ]

It's just a bit of a dump. That's all. Slept in worse places.

[ He snorts.

[ "Haven't we all?"

[ Could always be a hole in the ground. Go planet side, and Space Marines are still Marines. ]

Room?

[ SO CASUALLY, like he's just storing it away for future reference. Just in case of emergency. Definitely not like he's planning on crashing at Wash's place to keep an eye on him in the immediate future. Definitely. ]

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