Side Quest 8: Love, Jealousy and Russian Alcohol

Officer's Mess Hall, 2000hrs
Lt. Astrid Hofferson

The cold, frothy drink flows down the back of my throat, flushing down my irritation. The beer leaves a mildly bitter aftertaste in my mouth, an effect of the flavour of hops and the alcohol. I'm not usually a drinker, but a bottle of beer every other week serves its stress-relieving purposes. Plus I read somewhere that alcohol in small quantities decreases the risk of cardiac disease, stroke and cognitive decline.

I take another swig, emptying the bottle to the last drop.

That stupid asshole… what's with that? Staring at the new girl like that… What a pervert. She's a full seven years older than him, too.

Slamming the empty bottle of Carlsberg onto the table, I call for another pint from the bartender. I'm sitting in a corner of the hall, in a booth of my own. Staring out of the third-storey window, I watch as soldiers and personnel go about their evening duties. Rapping my fingers in irritation against the table, I wonder why I'm in such a bad mood over such a small issue.

My second bottle arrives; grabbing it, I unsheathe my combat knife and use it to pop the cap off.

"Um… please… no weapons please…" The nervous, shaking bartender politely requests for me to keep my knife.

"Shut up… alright, fine." Returning my knife back into its sheath on my belt, I shoot a glare at the poor, trembling boy, scaring him off. Pussy.

Returning to my drink, I continue contemplating my feelings.

Am I not good enough for him? Is it because I'm not… feminine enough? Or is it because…

I make sure no one is looking at me, before looking down myself. Sure, they may not look it, but I am a C-cup…

Cupping my chest, I cop a feel, examining them, and then privately blushing in embarrassment at what I was doing.

Damn, they ARE small. Maybe I've been working out a little too much.

Huffing, I examine by body a little further. At least my stomach is flat… albeit a little muscular for a girl. Is my butt too firm?

"Mind if I join, you, Lyeitenant?" The voice jolts me back, and I frantically look around, face flushed red in embarrassment. Standing at the front of my table is the new rider… Ilena, was it?

"S… sure, go ahead." At my prompting, she smiles, and takes the seat opposite me.

We continue drinking in silence. Through the corner of my eye, I examine her from top to toe. It's true; she is a striking Russian beauty, attracting the attention of the hot-blooded males currently staring at her. Not to mention, she does have substantially-sized… assets. Blushing at my own realisation, it only serves to decrease my self-esteem.

"Anything wrong, lyeitenant?" She notices me staring at her, and I hastily look away. "No… nothing…"

"I am curious… what do you think about the Kommandir?"

The question catches me off guard. Sputtering, I nearly spray beer all over the table. Coughing uncomfortably, I reply, "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

We're seeing each other, but we haven't let the rest of the world know yet…

Ilena cocks her eyebrow suspiciously. A sly smirk curls the corner of her mouth. Teasingly, she continues speaking in a deepened tone, her Russian accent suddenly seeming so much heavier, "I was thinking… Cpt. Jack… he is quite a cute boy. I wonder if he's taken?"

"H… how would I know?"

"Hmm? Being his second-in-command, I would have expected you to know… or are you hiding something?" Is this her evil villain personality coming out? I'm sweating, my heart pounding nervously.

A few seconds of awkward silence follows. Before I can say anything, though, Ilena breaks into laughter. Whipping my head around, looking for any cameras, I pray this isn't some joke video to be put up on YouTube.

"Ah, lyeitenant, you're so cute and fun to talk to." Recovering from her fit of laughter, she pours out another shot of vodka into her glass and downs it. Glancing over at my half-empty bottle of beer, she comments, "Beer? Typical English."

"Anything wrong with that, Ruskie?" My gaze hardens. I'm not liking this woman more and more…

Her smirk suddenly becomes a little more sinister. "No, nothing wrong. It's just that beer… it's just like piss water. No matter how much you drink, you can't get drunk, da?"

"Now, Vodka, that's more of a real soldier's drink, isn't it?" Pouring out another glass of the clear spirit, she slides it over to me. I look at it hesitantly, not knowing whether to take it or not.

Her tone is arrogant, a little challenging, "No offense, lyeitenant, but you can't even take on a so-called commie in a drinking contest? I'm not saying you couldn't beat me… But you might as well take off those pants and put on a skirt; put ribbons in your hair and go to a ball, da? Ha ha…"

Alright, that's it! In a beat, I grab the glass and down it in a single gulp. Slamming the empty glass back onto the table, I grin in satisfaction, the alcohol causing the blood to rush to my head. Inside, I was screaming for water to soothe the burning sensation of 50% alcohol going down my throat. But I hid it.

Ilena's smirk widens, as our gazes meet in a cold staredown that could have frozen hell over.

"Da! Barmenn!"

"Bring us all the Imperia (1) you've got!"

The growing rivalry between the two ladies comes to an alcohol-laced confrontation! To be continued in the next chapter, nausea and hangovers galore!

(1) – A well-known brand of premium Vodka, Imperia utilizes a 19th-century recipe developed by chemist Dimitri Mendeleev (inventor of the Periodic Table of Elements), and patented by the government of St. Petersburg. Winter wheat, harvested from the black soil of the Russian steppes, creates a liquor that undergoes a total of eight distillations before glacial water from Lake Ladoga brings it down to proper proof. The liquid then passes through both charcoal and quartz crystal multiple times to strain out any impurities.