Richard Winters / Band of Brothers / Bar

[mm_overture]

Comments

[aviatorass]

A man in an aviator jacket sits at his table without invitation. It's possible that Winters will recognize the insignia on it that calls him as a navy captain.

"You look like shit," Johnson says conversationally, and sets about opening up a carton of cigarettes.

[beenbornearlier]

"I'm lookin' forward to worse," is the easy response.

"Where're you coming in from?"

[aviatorass]

This earns him a short laugh. Johnson understands the sentiment.

"Operation Feral Moon."

No, he's not making that up. But he wishes he was.

[beenbornearlier]

Dick's expression remains relatively unchanged, although he does let out a brief, "Huh.

"Haven't heard that one before."

[aviatorass]

"It's probably after your time."

Johnson flicks out a cigarette and offer it to Dick, wordlessly.

[beenbornearlier]

He shakes his head with a quiet, "No thanks.

"1944, my end of the line."

[aviatorass]

Johnson lets out a low whistle. "Damn, kid."

Technically, Johnson is the kid. But he's immediately older, so.

"2027 on my end. You stationed overseas, I guess?"

[beenbornearlier]

Winters nods.

"France. Carentan as of now."

[aviatorass]

"Europe was one big pile of shit back in your day," Johnson says. "You sure you don't want a cigarette? I'll pony up for a cigar if you'd rather."

[beenbornearlier]

"I'm sure. Thanks anyway. Where're you, if you don't mind my asking?"

[aviatorass]

"London. Working a goddamn desk job." He is less than pleased about this.

[beenbornearlier]

A beat.

"How'd that happen?"

[aviatorass]

"I got old. I pissed off the people in charge of giving me assignments." Johnson shrugs. "What can I say, life sucks."

[beenbornearlier]

"Yeah, that would do it," Winters murmurs.

"How long're you stuck there for?"

[aviatorass]

"At least two years, they say."

[beenbornearlier]

"Hell of a stretch."