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[hecu_marine]

The Apocalypse averted itself. Shephard's good with that.

There's nine freakin' puppies still to deal with. Shephard's good with that too. And you know why?

Because the puppies and their momma are on the other side of the door.

Yeah. He went back to the boat, reported that his dog had whelped, handled a few things, and then turned around and marched straight back to Milliways. Messed up as the place might be, it's where most of the Resistance's most powerful off-world allies are, and it's not a good idea to leave folks like that behind. Also- let's be honest- he's been short on sleep for a good month now and there's a lot of lingering what the fuckery to deal with from fighting in what wasn't quite Ragnarok. He could use some decompression and some beer.

So, off-duty Marine at one of the more intact tables, with a beer and a miraculously intact yerik hide from Pandora, trying to decide just what to do with the piece of leather and not really thinking of a whole lot beyond that. Go ahead and bother him anyway, he should know better than to do this in public.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

What's big and fat and red/brown/green/yellow all over?

If you answered anything other than "the SEAL sprawled sleeping over the couch near Adrian, M60 on his chest"...

...you're wrong.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard glances up from the leatherwork at the sound of the couch creaking; apparently Voodoo's not as comfortable as he could be and squirmed in his sleep.

Now the question is, can Shephard sink a three point shot from where he's sitting, seeing as how Voodoo is being so kind as to provide him a target and all.

[boston_bruiser]

Said target is Voodoo's mouth - he doesn't normally sleep with it open, but fighting off the forces of multidimensional Ragnarok has a way of draining a man.

One hand slips off the M60 and falls over the side of the couch. He's not waking anytime soon. Not of his own volition, anyway.

Do it. We double-dog dare you.

[hecu_marine]

... nah, he's not going to throw anything.

That squirt bottle he's been carrying for training the houndeyes not to do stuff, now, that's another story.

Easiest shot he's lined up in a long time.

[boston_bruiser]

CRASH TINKLE TINKLE SCREEECH SMASH BONK BLAAARGH

Voodoo's awake.

"...mmmrgh..."

And cursing his muscle memory for all he's worth.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's just gonna *snerrrrk* for a bit. And cackle, as the situation presents itself.

[boston_bruiser]

Is that someone laughing? At him?

Voodoo turns to see Shephard mid-cackle and gropes for the nearest throwable object - a deck of playing cards, as it happens.

"Shudthfugup," he mumbles, chucking the deck at Adrian and missing. Scowling, he rolls over onto his side and tries to go to sleep - but it's impossible now, the lights are too bright and Shephard's too...well, Shephard.

"Asshole. Gonna get you back one of these days, swear t' fucking God..."

[hecu_marine]

"Yeah, you got to catch me first, fucker," says Shephard. "You left me a target, what the shit'd you expect me to do?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Not be an asshole, that's what. Bar, gimmie something to large 'n heavy to throw at this dumb motherfucker."

Bar, alas, does not oblige.

"Mmmrgh..."

Adrian, you now have a SEAL low-crawling toward you.

You might need to relocate in the next hour or so. If he doesn't fall asleep before then.

[not_his_pa]

At a nearby table, William is carefully feeding a little red kitten milk, his dinner is mainly eaten and he's talking to the cat,

"Come on, just a little bit more."

[hecu_marine]

Shephard glances over and offers a small smile; when they're still that little kittens are way easier to deal with than dogs. "Friend of yours?" he asks quietly.

[not_his_pa]

William looks up and smiles, he's glad to see Shephard is safe,

"Yeah, the door sent to me to where Teja's people are an I ended up takin' care of him. This is Horus."

[hecu_marine]

"Makes sense," says Shephard. "How old is he, anyways?"

[not_his_pa]

"Just a few weeks, but he was so small his mother didn't want him. So I'm lookin' after him. How are you?"

Horus mews and sucks on one of William's fingers.

[hecu_marine]

"'Bout as well as could be expected," says Shephard. "I was here for the fightin' an' all that shit. Sent my dogs home so I could git some down time without a shitload of puppies and a fuckload of Floyd."

[not_his_pa]

"Damn, I rode through the outside. It looks like what the papers would send back of battlefields just without the bodies."

[hecu_marine]

"Yeah, it's up there, all right," says Shephard. "Black Mesa didn't look much worse, I tell you what. 'Least the worst of that shit got undone somehow, fuck me if I know how."

[claudiometer]

Hey, there's that girl who chucked a nuke into a wormhole, at another more-intact table, working on taking a rather steampunk-looking pistol of some variety apart.
(She looks a little tired, and there's a good reason for that - but it's a reason a lot of people here can probably share in, at the moment.)

[hecu_marine]

Shephard glances up and lifts a hand in greeting. "Hey there," he calls. "How you holdin' up?"

[claudiometer]

"Oh, you know," she says, "another recurring dream about the worst day of my life. If I keep it up I'll have a box set." She sounds more flip about it than she feels - and really, this is gonna be one damn hard worst day of her life to supplant.
(She wouldn't have thought anything could top the day of Joshua's accident, though having to walk away from the Warehouse came close. Nearly getting sucked into a black hole, though...)
"You?"

[hecu_marine]

"Got some sleep last night," Shephard says, "which is more'n I was expecting. Got my dogs packed off home, so they're doin' all right. Ain't doin' nothin' more complicated than leatherwork for a while, though. Won't go well if I try pickin' up a gun."

(Mostly because the Deagle did very, very, very bad things to his wrists. Black Mesa and the dead zone Gene Worm actually loom somewhat larger in his psyche than this.)

[claudiometer]

"I've already been home for a week. In a way I'm kinda surprised it took this long, but the last recurring dream was... not entirely the same circumstances." She's pretty sure, now, that it was tied to the compass, and/or to Joshua himself, and as he's safely home, it's gone now.
"Thanks for your help, by the way. Never would've made it out to the damn thing without some cover."

[hecu_marine]

"That's what I joined the service for," says Shephard. "Killin' shit so folks don't die. Glad to do the job for you, believe me."

[claudiometer]

"Which service? And I don't think I caught your name at the time, but, well."
Thaaaaat can definitely be forgiven, all things considered. Monsters and nukes and whatnot, oh my.

[hecu_marine]

"United States Marine Corps," says Adrian. "Sergeant-Major Adrian Shephard, at your service."