Written for a Drabble Tree Challenge at LiveJournal's writerverse. Source line is in bold.
It was just another rubber chicken dinner. Jack had lost track of how many that made this month. The expectations were always the same: Smile, nod, act interested. It never hurt to have a store of goodwill in reserve and, for some reason, all these people just loved to have shake hands with a two-star general, have a drink with him, or tell him an off-color joke. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
It was just another dinner until Paul Davis arrived, panting and heading straight for Jack, as phones across the room started ringing simultaneously. And then they heard the explosions.