As the door swings open the bar is filled with the sound of gun fire. A man screams before being silenced by a grenade shoved into his mouth; an explosion rings out
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An odd thing happens in the span of a few seconds. Firstly, the booth where the woman sat is now empty. And secondly, at the bar sits a young man, no more than twenty-one. He wears a red shirt and a brown duster. His head is shaved--military style.
' 'Scuse me, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cold beer?'
The man takes it, giving her a nod of the head in gratitude. A shy smile is followed with: 'Not exactly. I've been here a few times. Just depends on when I can get out of that gorram war. Pardon my language, ma'am.' His cheeks flush just slightly in embarrassment.
'As of right now, I'm calling Hera home. If you can consider living in trenches and burnt out churches 'home.'' A sip from his beer. His posture is one of a weary, worn-out soldier; a man who hasn't seen a real shower or decent food in months.
Like bar leadership.
There's an old lady behind the bar now, silver hair falling to her shoulders and scrawling on a chalkboard.
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' 'Scuse me, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cold beer?'
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A flash of a smile before Sallie turns to one side, only requiring a bit of assistance from Bar to know where everything is.
Sallie slides a nondescript brown bottle towards the new arrival. "You new?"
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Gorram.
War.
Sallie inhales heavily, "...where are you from?"
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"I know of it. I'm on Shadow. Have been for some time."
Sallie asks the Bar if she can lock the boy away from his door.
Bar refuses to give her answers she likes.
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