The music from the jukebox droned on into the night, and from time to time the Officer's Club shook with laughter as a cluster formed around Hawkeye to listen to his raucous tales of the night's entertainment.

"Radar?" a nurse called out, "Our Radar, did all THAT?"

Radar turned aside, grinning bashfully, "Nah, must've been another Radar..."

Henry smirked at the fables of his odd behavior as they worked their way around the room a couple times and managed to sound more impressive each time they came back around to him. He smiled his goofy little smile, accepted the toasts of good health, and kept his arms firmly planted around Leslie Scorch, enjoying a moment of feeling full, only mildly intoxicated, and rather less predatory than of late.

A lull came in between the songs as nickels began to run out, and Hawkeye hopped up onto a chair, shouting, "Here's to Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake!"

Henry respectfully pulled away from Leslie a bit, keeping a hand on her back as he waited expectantly for Hawkeye's witty remark. The rest of the room seemed to echo his movement, and all eyes were on the chief surgeon.

Hawkeye opened his mouth, then paused, his face going blank, "Um..."

The O.C.'s silence grew oppressive. Radar looked up from his Nehi in barely disguised terror.

Captain Pierce's blank stare was shattered by a wide grin. "Gotcha--" The crowd groaned, but laughed nonetheless.

"No, really, to Henry Blake!" Hawkeye started again. "They say a coward dies a thousand deaths--" he chuckled down at Henry, who gave him a smirk and a shake of his head before the Captain's wide, toothy grin mellowed into a caring smile, and his tone became more serious, more genuinely fond. "Here's to a safe nine hundred and ninety nine more."

There was a general applause of approval, then the crowd bellowed back, "Cheers!" and the faces of the crowd were obscured under upturned bottled, tipped glasses, and many other sorts of containers lifted in many other ways.

All faces were obscured but two. That of Henry Blake, who was quite sated, and had earlier on proven to everyone who didn't believe him his complete incapability to keep down anything other than the red stuff, and that of Radar O'Reilley.

Henry looked across Lieutenant Scorch's pretty, soft neck (mentally giving himself a slap on the wrist for indulging such a stare, brief as it may have been) and saw Radar looking off into a corner of the ceiling, looking confused. Henry knew the look only too well.

"Choppers..." he mumbled quietly, getting a little of his own back, after all.

~