Half Life- Trocadero

Church took a long swig of his second beer, and stared blankly at the dark brown glass bottle. It threw his reflection back at him, and he saw his slightly bloodshot eyes, his messy hair, the pallid cast of his skin. The poorly-made swill tasted like shit, but it was all the stupid Enlisted Club had. He traced the grain of the fake wood that made up the bar with one finger, his other hand supporting his head as he rested his cheek in his palm. He winced when he felt his stubble scraping against his palm.

She had hated it when he was unshaven- she was military to the bone, needed regulations, order…

As he started to peel off the slightly faded label, he tried to remember why he was here, attempting to get drunk, and he scowled and shuddered away from that thought. Oh yeah, that was why.

She had also hated it when he brooded and sulked… Think of something else, anything else. He took another gulp of the beer and sighed in defeat, signaling for the bartender to give him another. Eyes slid in and out of focus, glazed from the beer as the bartender slid him another, with a sympathetic look. He got that crowd here a lot, the lonely, heartbroken fools.

-O-

He slammed down his third, half-finished beer. Standing up, he automatically used more force than necessary, as if he was wearing his heavy armor. Since he was in only jeans and T-shirt, he crumpled to the grimy bar floor, propelled a few feet from his chair.

He clambered to his feet, using a chair, oh look, a table too, and…a person? Blinking blearily up at South, Church grinned, still holding her arm. "Hey, Soutsh," he slurred, positively reeking of alcohol, "Wasshup?" Trying to lean suavely on the old jukebox, he missed and fell once again to the ground.

"Have you seen Wash?" she asked him, glancing down at him, then standing on tip-toes in an attempt to peer over the many heads in the E-club.

"No," he mumbled; as she walked away, he sighed, letting his head flop back against the peeling wall. He stared at the ceiling, the light bulb throwing a dim glow across the patrons, glasses and liquor reflecting shadows and light.

Damn, Church thought sourly, I didn't know that Tex had this effect on me…How could this possibly be correct? He was going to break it off with her anyway. So why, when Tex left, did she take part of him with her?

As he began to pass out, the P.A. system crackled to life with a static hissing. An emotionless female voice inform the compound of "a security breach. Security level Alpha. All available troops report to the East gate to detain Agent Texas on the double."

He smiled slightly as he succumbed to the alcohol in his bloodstream. That's my girl.

And I wonder where you are,

and I wonder what you were.

And I'm lost, inside a bar,

and I'm drunk inside a war.

-Trocadero