Had I really licked the bottom of a hamster cage last night?  I came to my senses, tallied the abuses my body had been through, and decided that the easiest thing to remedy in the massive list of things wrong with me was the horrible taste in my mouth.  I opened my eyes, seeing the dim, artificial light of the guest NCO quarters.  I bit back a groan and stumbled to my feet, feeling soreness in my lower back and thighs.  I moved toward the bathroom, every step making my head pound.

“Idiot,” I said to my reflection in the mirror.  My blue eyes were bloodshot, the brown hair greasy and unwashed, and my cheeks hollow with a growth of stubble.  I brushed my teeth and tried to recall the evening before.  I remembered vaguely a conversation with Dunkel, and I remembered coming back to my quarters with O’Leary.

O’Leary?

I stopped brushing my teeth and leaned out of the tiny bathroom.  A muscled, ivory thigh was visible in the mass of olive green blankets on my bed.  In spite of myself, I smirked, and instantly regretted it as the tension in my facial muscles reminded me of my hangover again. 

I rinsed my mouth, ran a hand through my unruly hair, and decided to wait on a shower.  Quietly, I crept to the data terminal and called up the news feeds for the day.  Perusing my menu choices, I selected the local news and was greeted with the Solarian Marine Corps logo. We were stationed at the Luna City Joint Arms Base on the edge of the Sea of Tranquility, so a list of base happenings appeared on the screen.  A list of troopship departures, a schedule of social events, and some miscellaneous military gossip crawled across the screen at reading speed.  I stared at the text without reading it before deciding that I was in no shape to absorb any information.

“Mmmph…”

I turned to see O’Leary sitting up, the blanket held fetchingly against her chest.  Her red hair was a haphazard nimbus around her head, sticking out in odd directions from static electricity.  “Mornin’, Corporal,” I said, and smiled.

“Corporal, my ass,” she muttered and collapsed backwards in the bed.  “What time is it?”

“Oh-nine hundred,” I answered.  “It’s the first full day of our leave.”

“Be a dear and get me some breakfast,” she said.  Her brogue was particularly thick this morning, being barely understandable.  She put her hands over her eyes.  We sat in silence for a moment, and I have to admit I was staring at her.  “Are you still here?” She asked mournfully.

I laughed.  “Afraid so.  Unfortunately, while NCO quarters are nice, they still don’t do room service.” 

“What are you good for?”  She moved her hands off her eyes and gazed at me.

I leered at her.  While I couldn’t really remember exactly what I was good for, I had a few clever ideas.  “I can think of a few things,” I said.

A giggle escaped from her.  “I’ll just bet you can, love.” 

“Come on,” I said.  “Let’s grab a shower and then hit the chow line.”

“A proposition, is it?” She asked.  “What makes you think I’m in any shape to manage that?”

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “My only intention is clean up a little bit.”  I pointedly smelled my armpit.  “I smell like tequila.”

She stretched fitfully, the blanket coming off of her in a rush.  She stood, and tapped my nose with an index finger.  “In that case, Sergeant, I accept.”  She turned and walked into the bathroom before looking over her shoulder and crooking a finger at me.

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