Katz walked into the Klash, doffing the peaked cap that was his only concession to a uniform since reactivation after the Ontario incident.
He glanced at the group of Marines playing a game by the great rotating windows, handing bottles off to thier girlfriends... sturdy women with more testosterone than most Bretonian's he knew, who opened the bottles with thier teeth before handing them back to thier men.
Katz picked a seat at the bar, noticing that the music was somewhat appropriate for the mood he was in.
The barmaid smiled at him as she poured him a coffee, "you haven't been in here in a while Commissar..."
"I'm in that kind of mood," Katz said as he motioned to the lone bottle of Bailey's that stood out in the wall of vodka that took up nearly all the space behind the bar. Every kind of Vodka from McIntosh's private stock, the finest crystal clear stuff from Odessa all the way through to the murkiest blue variety brewed in stills aboard the CPS Shanghai where it should have remained for cleaning greasy engine parts. McIntosh, like all of them, enjoyed the act of sharing with his men, and his men enjoyed partaking of that generosity.
She unscrewed the bottle, adding a slug to his mug, handing it back to him.
"You mean you're having a bad day?" she asked.
"No, just an introspective one," Katz answered. "You marry that Lieutenant you were interested in?"
"You marry the one you're interested in yet?" she countered.
"Touche!" Katz replied lifting his mug. "No, I'm in a good mood, turns out my biggest enemies are a demented clown who appears fond of me... and a harliquin-princess who is most definatelly not fond of me... strange, I don't know which one is the biggest joke."
"That is usually an indication that you need more Vodka, Comrade-Katz." She pointed out sagely.
"Okay," Katz said, turning in his chair and nodding to the door. "Next member of the fighter wing through the door, I'll buy a drink for... only catch is they have to say something profound..."
"Now I see why you don't drink," the barmaid sniffed. "You get drunk off of sniffing that Molly swill..."
Katz shrugged, settling in for a good night at the Klash.
![[Image: 5438_s.png]](http://signavatar.com/5438_s.png)