He was satisfied that Dagon's time off didn't rub off. Much. He raised his lit cigar in a sort of air toast, as Meallan drains the bottle of Jack Daniels that he had.
"The live ones."
As Samuel's face was lit up by the business end of his cigar, several thoughts crossed his mind. How many young naval officers had he killed in his career? And for what? The complacent government sits firmly in office. Every day they lose thousands, and still they march on. Prancing about with their heads full of rocks. He pushed the thoughts away as the waitress meandered by. He whistled, which caught her attention.
"A couple of fried chicken breasts with... something to drink. Don't really care what the drink is."
The waitress nodded and continued on, as Sam took the last drag from his cigar. He blew a smoke ring in the waitress' direction, and mashed the lit end of his cigar in the booth's ashtray.
"So where were you anyway. I never got much notice. Was on bit of a vacation myself. If you could call hell a vacation"
