IC: Inbox

[charlieoscar]

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"Go for Slattery."

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[pampa]

He nods, snorting once.

"Yeah, right." Miller looks down into his glass, still half full. Appropriate for the resident optimist. "I told Alex once I thought all the people disappearin' were going back home. Hell, maybe he's with his kid on Mars right now." Or at least with the Rocinante.

[charlieoscar]

"Having a picnic, with those sandwiches Bobbie likes so much."

If you were going to dream, dream big.

"Saving a drink for you, and laughing about the stone age waiting for me."

[pampa]

Yeah, that works for him. He clinks their glasses again and smiles, though it's haggard.

"Hear, hear."

[charlieoscar]

They descend into a stretch of silence, only the clink of glass and the quickness of breath after too hard liquor. Then, because he has to move on - put it aside, keep moving, keep working - Mike looks down into his glass and raises an eyebrow.

"You make this out of turpentine?"

[pampa]

He nods easily, shrugging a shoulder as he downs the rest of his drink and ignores the shiver.

"Special batch just for you, Cap."

[charlieoscar]

Mike stares down into his glass, tongue sliding over his front teeth.

"Wouldn't want your liver miserable alone."