Disclaimer: Project Wingman and all characters associated with it are the property of Sector D2 and their staff. They made the sky here, I'm just flying in it.
A/N: So, this is a fic I had kicking around for a long time, but never actually got around to finishing. There's no special plot or anything in this one, just some character building for Monarch and Prez, and then (for once) being able to relax after a mission.
To everyone in Sicario, Monarch presented himself as a fairly normal, if unusually quiet mercenary pilot with an unusual tacname. While most mercenary pilots aren't normally people who like attention being drawn to themselves; the veteran mercenary and flight lead for Hitman was more than satisfied with letting others speculate about what "Monarch" truly means or why he was so quiet on the battlefield and at base. It's better than them speculating about why he tended to favor his right leg a bit more than his left, or the reason he didn't do any morning runs like quite a few of the other members of Sicario.
Truth is, Monarch had what'd be to most pilots an injury that would disqualify them from any military or mercenary company with proper standards. And he hadn't told a soul. Including Kaiser. Especially Kaiser.
It happened some time ago early on in his career, when during one mission a piece of shrapnel shot through the canopy and went straight into his left knee, taking out a chunk of him with it as it exited. Luckily, thanks to Monarch's inhuman flying skill, he did manage to successfully make it back to base, albeit with needing immediate medical attention and surgery the second he touched down. However, he was still grounded from flying, and his contract with them ended prematurely as such a debilitating injury triggered its exit clause. Monarch left only a few days later, on a small flight out of a nearby town close to where Konstantin was currently stationed.
Normally, such a thing would prematurely end a pilot's career. The records about the injury from his old mercenary company, Konstantin Tactical, would come out one way or another. Mercenary groups would usually pass information to each other about how their pilots performed if it was requested and the fee for access was paid. Not many would want a pilot that had a serious mobility limitation. Even worse, some mercenary companies would use a pilot's medical records against them, making said pilot work for much less than they were worth. Fortunately, the records were never passed on to anyone else. Konstantin Tactical folded only a few weeks later, as they lost most of their forces when the Cordium smuggling organization they were hunting turned the tables on them after the smugglers discovered their base of operations. Konstantin's data files, along with the computers at the base were destroyed in the surprise raid. While there were back-ups stored on the net; no one in Konstantin who survived had the codes needed to access them. These records included the files related to Monarch's injury, meaning that no other mercenary organizations could know about it, without having to make a lengthy search of the Mercenary Networks to find any trace of information on it.
Monarch was in the clear. At least for now.
It took multiple surgeries, extensive physical therapy, and practically all of the money he had made working for Konstantin in order for him to not have to worry about his knee giving out on him. The issue was that even with all the work that he put in, Sicario's top pilot still had to deal with regular flare-ups of pain and inflammation. To prevent this, he used painkillers and anti-inflammatories to relieve the symptoms of his old war wound. They were nothing too strong, and not likely to interfere with his flying, as far as Monarch knew. He'd done his research after all. However, they were not supposed to be used with alcohol, so when some members of Sicario got approval to take one of Circus's transports over to an airfield next to the Salvemini Vineyards for wine tasting, Monarch left his meds at base. The occasion was to celebrate Cascadia's air victory over the Bering Strait (Despite Circus having nothing to do with Operation Guillotine); and Prez invited him to come along so they could "share a bottle of red" as she had suggested to him earlier during their fight to save the Cascadian ground forces and Wild Boar. The plane was full of a mix of people from different sections of Sicario, including Diplomat and Comic, who both were fairly interested in seeing if any of the wine Salvemini produced was any good.
How the mercenaries convinced Kaiser to give the ok on such an idea was a tale all on its own. Monarch heard from Galaxy that a few members from Gunsel came up with the idea to provide the leader of Sicario with several bottles of the "really good stuff" in exchange for overlooking their "borrowing" of one of Circus's planes. Whether or not that was true was another matter, but Monarch didn't concern himself with the details. The important thing was that he was now in the Salvemini Vineyards in Central Cascadia. He now found himself walking along with his WSO, Prez, holding a bottle of Salvemini Merlot in one hand and a red and white checkered blanket in the other. She meanwhile carried the glasses, and seemed quite relieved that this trip with her pilot was for once going to be peaceful, and not involve hanging on to the edge of her ejection seat while cursing the day she ever signed to be Monarch's backseater.
It was truly a lovely day. The light blue sky and snow-white clouds made for a perfect atmosphere, with the sun shining in the sky above them. Any trace of the battle that had occurred beforehand in the vineyards wasn't very visible, as this part of the area had been relatively untouched. So far, it had been Monarch's best day off in a while. Comic and Dip had been trading banter and seemed to be in high spirits the whole ride; and Galaxy even told some pretty amusing stories that got the entire flight laughing. This included one about where a few of the members of the AWACS crew bet him to read some rather unprofessional material on the radio at the start of a training flight for new recruits in exchange for a healthy sum of Cascadian currency. Unsurprisingly, the AWACS operator did as he was asked; and it was well worth the dressing down he got from Kaiser after the session was over. Even if Galaxy's name got stuck on latrine duty for two weeks.
Monarch found himself at ease, and he for the first time in several days let out a smile that was out of genuine happiness. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last for too long. As he began to head over from the winery with Prez, he began to feel a slight ache in his left knee, the site of his injury. Hoping it was just a passing feeling, "Hitman 1" simply brushed it off and kept moving. After all, such things had happened before, and he had been alright after a few minutes of rest. However, this was no mere temporary ache, but rather his entire knee becoming inflamed. And it was getting more and more difficult for Monarch to walk with each step.
Damn it.
"So Monarch, what do you think of this place?" Prez asked. She grinned, her eyes taking in the view around them. Even with the recent battle having taken place, the Salvemini Vineyards were a sight to behold, and the owners had the foresight to put in a few grassy areas by the main buildings for customers to walk or sit in.
Monarch simply nodded to her in acknowledgment, hoping the sights of Salvemini would take his focus off the current situation he was in. It had become harder for the pilot not to limp as they finally reached the small grassy plain. They could see in the distance the rest of Sicario spread out; some taking out bottles and glasses to the rest of the vineyards like Monarch and Prez did. Others, such as Galaxy and his AWACS crew that joined him, were busy on the porches of the winery, already beginning to open their own bottles, some even purchasing some light meals to go along with it.
"Alright, here's the spot. I'll take the bottle so you can set down the blanket." Monarch handed Prez the bottle of wine, as he then took the blanket and spread it out on the small field, inwardly cursing as he felt another wave of pain burn through him. He reflexively began to stretch and rest his hand on his knee lightly, trying to massage out the issue as much as he could.
"Are you ok, Monarch?" Prez raised an eyebrow, looking at him a bit puzzled.
"I'm...fine. Just a bit of a cramp in my leg." Monarch lied, giving his WSO a slightly forced smile as he sat down, and stretched his leg a bit more as he tried to ease the growing pain.
"Ah, alright. Hope it's not too bothersome, I know how uncomfortable it can be in the F/D-14. Especially given that I'm there with you quite a bit." Prez responded, setting the bottle and glasses down, sitting on the red and white blanket they had brought from base.
"Certainly, but don't worry about it, it's going away as we speak." Another lie, but it didn't seem like Prez noticed too much. Monarch gave a quiet sigh of relief, he had managed to keep her unaware of his leg injury. Prez didn't suspect anything, and while the pain was still there, he at least could sit down, allowing his body to recover on its own. For now, he could rest easy.
"Well, I hope so. You were moving quite a bit funny during our walk over here." Prez said nonchalantly. "Could you pour the wine for us?"
"Of course, Prez." Monarch managed another grin, and reached to grab the wine set on his left side, reflexively moving his knee to allow himself to bend to reach it. Another burst of pain went through his leg due to his awkward position, and he failed to suppress a grimace while he quickly grabbed the bottle.
"...Monarch, you sure you're alright?"
"Yes."
Prez in response gave him a look that communicated she didn't quite believe him.
"No...I don't think you are." Prez's eyes drifted toward his leg, as Monarch realized that she was beginning to put two and two together.
This is not going according to plan. Need to change the subject. The idea that had appeared in Monarch's head was a good one, and all he needed to do was pick a topic to quickly move to. The bottle of wine in his hand was available, and it looked like the best opportunity to draw his WSO's attention away from the increasingly obvious issue with his knee.
"How about we talk about uncorking the Merlot now, Prez?" He proposed, and immediately went to pick up the two wine glasses, this time trying to be much more careful with his knee.
"How about we talk about what a bad liar you are?" Prez crossed her arms, frowning. She didn't go along with it, and the WSO of Hitman 1 was clearly getting irritated by his attempts to switch topics.
That...did not help. Monarch thought, frantically searching to avoid the situation, having paused his grab for the glasses. "What do you mean, lie? I'm fine…"
Prez sighed, massaging her temple with one hand. "If you really think that I wouldn't notice, then you really are a dumbass."
Monarch opened his mouth to try to say something, but no words came out. Prez then continued, dropping her hand to her lap, "It's not the first time I've seen you looking like that, y'know. Whenever we get out of our plane after a mission, you always are limping a bit to the hangar. So, what's going on, and why are you so adamant about refusing to acknowledge it?"
Prez shot him a look. His WSO did not appreciate it when someone tried to lie to her about something, especially when it concerned their own well-being. Monarch knew she cared deeply for her fellows in Sicario, even if she didn't always show it. It was a characteristic that Monarch found to be very kind and selfless (two rare traits to be found in a mercenary), but he wasn't afraid to say that it could get on his nerves sometimes.
Monarch paused, taking a breath in, and then exhaled. "Uh..old war wound, Prez. Got shrapnel in my left knee on a flight, and I never really fully recovered."
"Ah…" Prez nodded her head, as she looked at him with a degree of sympathy.
"Yeah…" Monarch paused, unsure if he should say anything else, but then decided to continue speaking. "I just didn't want anyone to find out about it. Pilots who are known to have suffered wounds like that often lose out on Contracts, and I didn't want my injury to hurt my bottom line. You know how it is, mercenary companies won't hire personnel with liabilities. And if they do...it's at a much reduced price."
"I understand what you mean about your career, and when it comes to your bottom line." Prez herself knew about how important money was, Monarch figured. After all, he knew that she regularly sent money back home to support her family, and so she could sympathize with the issue. "If others like Kaiser knew, they could lower the amount in your Contract, or let you go. Well, not that I think The Boss would take you out, especially after everything you've done. Still, I won't mention it to anyone else."
"Thanks. I appreciate it, Prez. Last thing I need is Kaiser figuring it out." Monarch knew that given his significance in the war effort Kaiser would certainly not be willing to take Monarch off the payroll.
Still, he didn't want to find out what would happen if Kaiser knew Monarch had been lying about such an injury. Especially considering Monarch had it scrubbed from his medical history, and hid it during any of his physicals that were conducted by Sicario's medical staff. It was stated in their Contract that they were required to disclose all injuries that occured over the course of their career and in the field, and Monarch preferred a clean record above all else.
She paused, and then crossed her arms again, "But, I get it's a sore subject and all, but as your WSO it's important for me to know about these things, Monarch. I don't want to get shot down because your knee injury is distracting you from the mission. Pilots have to be in top shape, and you are no exception. Even if you are responsible for most of my paycheck."
"Trust me, it doesn't distract me from my mission. It's not like I have to go for a jog while flying the F/D-14. Still guess you're right; I should have let you know about it." Monarch conceded. Any part of him that wanted to argue was subdued by the ache that has spread throughout his knee. That, and he would rather not ruin any of this time further than he already had. There was still the Merlot to be drunk, after all.
"I know I am." She flashed him a slight smirk, Monarch resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "Anyway, so let me ask you again. Are you going to be alright?"
"I...will be. I think. As long as I sit down for a while."
"Good. So how about we uncork that bottle of wine then." Prez held up the glasses, grinning.
Monarch grinned a bit, and did so, using the wine corkscrew the winery gave them. He set the cork down, catching the whiff of a slightly sweet aroma, as he set the cork and corkscrew down on the blanket. He first poured Prez a glass, handing it to her before pouring his own. They both started sipping their glasses, and Monarch could tell that they had picked a good bottle. It was a more expensive brand, but Salvemini's AC 417 was certainly worth it. It had a fairly smooth fruity flavor, and Monarch could swear that he could taste hints of vanilla and coffee. At 75 a bottle it was expensive,
"But anyway, sorry if I got a bit upset there." Prez was the first to talk after their first sips, in a fairly neutral but apologetic tone.
"It's alright, made my peace with it long ago. Normally I wouldn't have this problem, but I left the meds I usually take back at base. We came to a winery and all, so…"
"Makes sense, I know a lot of that stuff you shouldn't use with alcohol. It's funny y'know- I have an uncle back at my family's home. Similar injury to yours."
"He served?" Monarch raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Yup, Fed ground forces 15 years ago. He never really told the story, but apparently he got hit in the leg during combat as well." Prez pauses, taking a small sip of wine before continuing, "Anyway, he tried to look like it never bothered him. Just kept walking on. Swear one day though his damn leg is going to give out…" She chuckles a bit, but Monarch could tell that Prez felt a great deal of concern for her uncle nonetheless.
"Explains how you noticed my own."
"Yeah, you both...have that ever so slight limp. I mean, you mask it better, but, it's actually this stance you both have that tipped me off."
Monarch raises an eyebrow, leading her to explain further. "How do I explain it, it's...you both have this pride, this determination about you. You don't want to give in or show weakness, no matter what happens. It's like when we first encountered Crimson 1 during our mission to hit the Cordium mining facilities. You fought back."
"We fought back." Monarch corrects her.
"No, you did. I spent my time hanging onto my ejection seat screaming at you to run away from them, while simultaneously trying to prevent us from getting shot down. …Still can't believe you actually decided to do that. Any other pilot would have been knocked out of the sky." Prez says, and abruptly shakes her head in memory of the operation.
"…And so, you helped fight back." Monarch smirked slightly at Prez, who just sighed and rolled her eyes at him.
"Well, someone has to do the work of keeping your plane from falling out of the sky, Monarch. You seem to have a lot of trouble doing the same thing by yourself." Prez smirked slightly at Monarch, and he knew she managed to strike a nerve at him with that remark.
It was well known among the members of Sicario that despite Monarch's incredible flying, dogfighting, and endurance in the cockpit; his skills with the other systems of an aircraft were less so. That was why he tended to fly two-seater planes on most of his missions, as having a second person to handle communications and electronics given his trademark silence on missions, and also take care of the aircraft's weapon systems while he did the flying. It made things much easier, and enabled him to stretch his piloting skills and aircraft's performance to it's limit.
"…" Monarch was quiet after that, and simply took a sip of his wine while Prez grinned at him. He then, after swallowing, fired back with another remark. "While that may be true, my skill there at least outweighs your flying ability."
"My flying isn't that bad!" Prez exclaimed, gesturing with her hands to the air, as the red wine still left in her glass swished around. Monarch considered it lucky that none had spilled, but just calmly gave her an ever so slight smirk.
"And that's the problem, Prez. It's not that good, either!" Monarch couldn't help but grin at her as he spoke. Prez's flying was often the butt of many a joke in Sicario, and Monarch wasn't planning to give up the tradition just yet.
"…You better shut up about that, before I consider giving your other knee a 'lingering injury'." Prez raised her fist to make a point, pretending to look angry, but that just resulted in Monarch breaking into a laugh. However, he ended up falling on his back, before grunting in pain as his left knee rapidly changed position due to it. "Ow…"
"See? That's what you get for making fun of me!" Prez exclaimed, pointing at him; Monarch groaning as he sat up again.
"F-fair…" Monarch sighed, as he simply decided to pour himself another glass of Merlot instead, thankful that his own was at least empty when he fell over.
As he did, Prez turned to look in the distance, seeing on the patio of the winery much of Sicario drinking, laughing, and toasting their recent success. "Think that Comic and Diplomat are over there."
She pointed to two figures sitting fairly close to each other at a small table, one with blond and the other with brown hair. "So, who do you think is more drunk…Comic…or Dip?"
Monarch squinted in the distance to try to get a better view of his two wingmen, and then gave his answer. "Likely Dip. Comic can hold her alcohol much better on her worst day than he could on his best."
"Agree there." Prez took another sip of her wine, finishing it before pouring herself a second glass. "Say, if you don't mind me asking, how did you three exactly meet, anyway? I've tried to get answers out of the other two, but they never really gave a straight answer."
"Well...that's a long story." Monarch paused, going into his trademark silence for a few moments as he thought about how to answer the question. Memories began to flood into his head, some warm and inviting, others less so, and a few in particular that he preferred to forget. He took a gulp of wine, pausing. "And it's one I don't know if I want to tell now."
Prez didn't seem all that too happy at Monarch's response, but she nodded in acceptance. "I understand. Sorry, didn't mean to pry, haven't exactly known you for the longest time either."
Monarch blinked, looking at her. Prez's expression was slightly downcast at the rejection, and he didn't want to sour the mood they had now. He had already done that enough with talk of his leg injury. "No- it's not that. You mean more to me than just another mercenary in Sicario, Prez. You mean a lot more."
Prez didn't seem to expect the last sentence, brushing her brown hair for a moment, giving a nervous smile back at him. It seemed to be possible that there was a faint blush on her cheeks, but it also as easily could be the wine finally having its effect. Monarch gave a big grin at her, as he knew that his comment had caught her off guard. This of course only made her blush a bit more.
Indeed, as he poured himself a second glass, Monarch suspected he might have the same blush. I should watch it though, stuff's strong. Don't want to lose myself, especially with Prez around.
Meanwhile, Prez studied him carefully, as if Monarch was the F/D-14 that Prez had to constantly work on to keep running at top shape. Then, she gave her reply, with a slight smirk on her face. "Don't think you can woo me that easily, flyboy."
Monarch's heart and expression both froze for a moment as he stared at her, not quite sure how to respond. "Ahhh…"
Luckily, Prez diffused the need for his response with her own laughter, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Still, the look on your face…"
She giggled a bit more, the red wine swirling around in her glass as Monarch recovered. "Alright, fine. You got the best of me there."
"Well, I talk more than you do. Got a bit more practice with conversations." Prez laughed a bit more, before taking another sip of her Merlot.
"That's fair." He chuckled a bit, before taking another drink of his wine. It was still good, the alcohol's calming effects on him slowly making themselves apparent. Monarch could feel the pain in his knee melt away slowly, something the ace pilot was thankful for.
"Well, I wouldn't be your WSO without knowing how to push you juuust a bit." Prez grinned at Monarch, who sighed in response.
Prez then finished the rest of her 2nd glass before setting it down on the blanket. She stared for a second at the nearly empty bottle, thinking.
"Wishing we should have ordered more?" Monarch asked, finishing his own glass and setting it down. The bottle itself was rather small, and the two glasses each had pretty much drained it dry.
Prez pauses for a moment, considering Monarch's question. "Hmm, maybe, but I'm satisfied with what we had."
"Well, I wasn't thinking of now, but rather later." Monarch smiled. "Would be nice to have a bottle or two of this around for when we liberate Cascadia. I'll buy."
Prez stood up, taking her glass with her. "That's not a bad idea. Especially if you're the one paying, Monarch."
Monarch gave a small chuckle. "Well, given I tend to buy most dinners for Hitman anyway since I get the largest payouts, I suppose a few bottles of Salvemini Merlot isn't too much more."
Monarch then proceeded to get off the blanket, doing his best to stand as his knee ached from the sudden physical stress. He wobbled slightly as he tried to find his balance, Prez reaching out a hand for him, but he refused. "No, it's fine. I got it."
Prez watched him as she took the empty glasses and bottle, eying her pilot warily. "Still think you should go see a physician."
Monarch sighed as he tested his left leg. It felt a bit better than when he had been walking over, although that was likely part of the alcohol's sedating effect. "When I get the chance, I'll go off base to see one of the Cascadian doctors."
"Don't trust Dr. Humphrey?"
Dr. Humphrey was the main physician attached to Sicario's small medical team, and had been there for ten years, so far. Monarch answered, "Well, they might have to do scans on it, and I know we don't have that kind of equipment at Rowsdower."
That, and I'd rather put it off till later. Monarch thought.
"Well, alright." Prez didn't sound completely convinced, but she seemed to have lost interest in the topic. "Just be careful."
"Why, worried I might spin the plane out and throw you into G-loc?"
"Don't remind me. Y'know, Assassin and Gunsel were talking all about your flying after that mission."
"Really? What did they say?" Monarch folded up the blanket, carrying it beneath his arm as the two began walking back to the winery's building. His steps were slightly unsteady, but he managed to keep his balance.
"They said that you must either lack blood or be blessed by the Dust Mother iin order to fly like you do. That, and something about how The Boss needs to up my payout for having to deal with all your maneuvers."
"The first part isn't true- to my knowledge. But I actually did talk to Kaiser about increasing your payment. Especially after our last performance in that furball."
Prez stopped, and looked at him with a genuine smile on her face, her brown eyes growing wide. "Wait, you did? It explains why my share was so large this month…"
Monarch flashed a small smile back. "Yeah. Told him that I wouldn't have been able to shoot down 2 of Crimson squadron and 10 others without you by my side. Not to mention all the extra work and time you put in for me on the F/D-14. Kaiser said he'd think about it, but it looks like he came through in the end."
"Thank you so much!" Prez grinned, throwing an arm around Monarch in a side hug which he reciprocated.
"You earned it, Prez." In Monarch's view, Prez did more than deserve the pay increase. Had she not been able to track targets and handle the radar and weapons systems of his aircraft, Monarch would not have been nearly as effective in combat. Hitman 1 was a team, after all.
"Thanks, but you're the one who spoke to Kaiser about it." They released each other, and the two resumed their walk, Monarch doing his best to disguise the slight limp in his left leg as they began to come up on the rest of Sicario.
Monarch looked past into the vineyards, noticing in the distance the wreckage of many Cascadian and Federation vehicles and equipment. "It'll take them a long time to clean that out of there."
Prez turned to look, squinting her eyes at what appeared to be a Federation tank that had been struck by a missile. "Think that might've been one of ours?"
"Maybe. We did take out quite a few tanks during that battle. I'll admit though, what was more surprising to me was that any of the vineyards were left standing at all. Much less that they'd still be open."
"Well, Salvemini is pretty important. It's famous in Cascadia for its wine production, and I heard from some Cascadian air crews that they are shipping bottles out to the Cascadian military. For morale purposes, I'm guessing." Prez paused, adding. "Not to lecture you on your homeland, I know you're Cascadian yourself. You likely know a hell of a lot more than me."
Monarch kept silent for a moment before replying. "Not exactly. My family is Cascadian, but I grew up in Magadan. Never really had a strong connection to Cascadia, as a result.
"Magadan?" Prez seemed surprised by the reveal of this information.
"Yeah. Family were- and are in the mining business. Magadan's pretty rich in resources, after all. One of the few reasons people decide to live there." Monarch had the hint of a smile on his face as he thought back to earlier memories of time spent with his family in the frozen north. It made him forget the ache in his knee, if only slightly.
"Can't imagine how it was to live there. Too cold up there for me." Prez held her arms close to her chest. Monarch suspected she was thinking of the cold nights at Rowsdower in Northern Cascadia where they were stationed.
"Hah, it can be. Even during the Summer Magadan never gets warm. Just enough heat for the snow to melt."
She nodded, keeping her gaze partly on him as they neared the winery's main building. "Hope I'm not intruding, but if you grew up there, how'd you become a mercenary and join Sicario?
Monarch paused, thinking again to himself for a moment. "That's a…long story. Lot to unpack there."
"Oh. Well, I didn't mean to pry. I know most people here are tight-lipped about their pasts." Prez backed off, but Monarch could see her questions came out of genuine curiosity. And truth be told, he did want to know more about her as well.
"I'm fine discussing it, but like I said earlier, preferably another time. ...Tell ya what, once we get this business settled in Cascadia, you and I can catch up on everything and tell each other all the stories about our lives. Maybe we'll even go to a beach bar while we're at it." He split a grin at her, combing his free hand that wasn't carrying the checkered blanket through his dark hair.
"Sounds like a plan. Although if it's at a beach bar, we might need to invite Dip…speaking of which." She gestures to two figures stepping down the winery's patio.
"Hey Monarch, Prez." The greeting came from Comic, who was descending the stairs with Diplomat, his arm around her waist.
At first Monarch blinked, he knew that Comic and Dip had a close relationship, but usually they kept it out of the open. Diplomat's slightly unsteady steps however revealed something else, namely that he had likely a glass of wine or two more than his usual.
"Hey." Monarch nodded, reflexively flexing his left knee to try to stretch it after the walk over. "Did you enjoy the wine?"
"Yeah, it was pretty good. Dip especially enjoyed it, if you can't tell." Comic gave a nudge to Hitman 2, who laughed.
Prez turned her head, glancing at Diplomat. He for the most part seemed alright, if a bit unsteady after walking down that flight of stairs.
"I'm not that drunk, 'Mick. You didn't have to help me down the stairs, y'know." He chuckled, and while Diplomat did seem slightly annoyed at Comic deciding to help him, he wasn't enough to be truly angry.
"Well, someone has to keep an eye on you. Dust Mother knows what you'll get yourself into otherwise." Comic replied, giving Monarch a look which the ace pilot reciprocated. Monarch was well aware that despite Comic being the heavier drinker, Diplomat was the one who tended to lose his inhibitions more with alcohol.
"Now hold on, I'm not the one of us who always used to get hammered constantly. Including that one time during-" Before Diplomat could say anything else, Comic let him go with what seemed to be the slightest push, leaving him stumbling but managing to catch his balance. She then walked a few steps away, watching Diplomat regain his balance.
Diplomat managed to keep himself from falling, and he turned at Comic, throwing his hands out in a wild gesture, "Hey, what the hell was that for?"
"Hmph." Comic refused to answer, crossing her arms as she looked to the road leading away from the winery. "Come on, let's get back to the landing strip by here. Galaxy said we'd be taking off by 1800 sharp, according to his words. And you know he doesn't like it when people delay him."
Diplomat sighed, giving a look toward Monarch and Prez as he smiled despite Comic's reaction to him bringing up her earlier drunkenness in their past. "Yeah, he sure likes his beauty sleep alright. Pretty sure it's written on his contract that he has to be in bed by 9 and not woken up until 6."
Prez giggled slightly at that, and Monarch for his part gave a small smile as he talked. "True, guess we do need to get back soon. Prez and I are gonna grab a bottle or two from here first for the road."
"Y'know, that's not a bad idea…" Comic's green eyes blinked, as she thought about what Monarch had said.
"Want us to pick you one up?" Prez asked. "I don't mind buying one extra."
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind having it on hand. Salvemini Reserve Merlot, AC 417 right?" Comic asked.
Prez nodded, as Comic's words matched with what was stamped on the bottle's label.
"I think I'll pass for today, I've already had enough." Dip commented, having seemed to realize he had hit his limit.
"I was thinking for later. Y'know, maybe as a celebration or something." Comic gave a hint of a warm smile as she replied.
"Or a rainy day." Diplomat said, as he walked over to Comic.
"True enough." Comic nodded, and gave a small wave to Prez and Monarch, who waved back. "See you two later, and thanks."
"You're welcome." Prez smiled at her, as Comic and Diplomat walked away, Comic once again putting her arm around him.
Once they were out of earshot, she turned to Monarch. "So, are they a couple, or…"
"Yes…and no. Honestly, it's hard to keep track these days." Quite a few in Sicario had wondered the same, and some even made bets on when the two would officially become an item. However, it never came through, as they always drifted between that space of friends and romantic partners. Never quite touching either side.
"I see." Prez said, and after a moment of silence, she spoke up again. "Anyway, thanks for going along with me. Had a really good time with you today."
"Well, back during our flight here you mentioned wanting to share a 'bottle of red'. Figured I'd take you up on that offer." Monarch looked down the stretch of road where the airstrip waited, in the distance seeing the transport plane that was going to take them back to Rowsdower.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His left knee seemed to be already burning at the idea of walking back that far. He flexed it, grimacing slightly at the faint pain present. He'd definitely need a good night's rest and a dose of his meds tonight.
"Don't worry. If worse comes to worse, I'll help you out like Comic did for Dip." Prez smiled, as she began walking inside to the winery's shop. "Come on, let's go."
"Hah, thanks. You're always there for me, Robin." Monarch said quietly, grinning slightly.
"Just as you've been for me too, Lev." Prez opened the door, as Monarch followed in behind her, to begin an end to what had been one of his favorite memories in Cascadia.
His leg felt a bit lighter with each step.