(Untitled)

[yourtieisugly]

Who: House and [OPEN]
What: They're sharing a drink they call 'loneliness', but it's better than drinking alone Mike's Hard Lemonade
When/Where: Late evening, the "bar" on base

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[thedistantrose]

Being walled up inside a military base with no apparent way in or out had its benefits, Rose was sure, but she wasn't having much luck in seeing them. Already she'd memorized just about every detail of the place, and run dry on the possibility of finding a way out. There wasn't one. The whole setup was too much like Satellite Five for her own liking, and if there was so much as one gaudy, over the top sofa or demented game show anywhere, she was getting out of here.

The bar was empty otherwise, and what would it hurt? She didn't drink often, but when she did Rose preferred Guinness. Pint of it, and that was all she'd need.

[yourtieisugly]

Choose A Chest was an interesting concept for a magazine article: ten celebrities, all shot from the neck down, with the correct heads thrown onto the facing page. The challenge? Match the bust to the brain usually parked above it. So far, House had nailed seven out of ten. He was waffling on Salma.

He dragged a glass of scotch to his lips and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, tonguing the inside of his cheek while he compared soft anatomy.

[thedistantrose]

No one else was in the bar, really, except for the man she hadn't seen much of other than in passing. And what was he reading? Reading wasn't involved, it was something more likened to staring or ogling. Rose lifted her eyebrows into her hair immediately, not bothering to hide the skeptical look on her face.

"That all the entertainment this place has to offer?

[yourtieisugly]

Bingo: Salma in the gold lamé with the chintz handbag. House smiled and flipped the page.

"There's karaoke on Tuesdays."

[boozeandsurgery]

Even if army bases didn't have a fully stocked bar the soldiers on it usually managed to brew up some equivalent. Hawkeye should know, cooked up enough at the 4077th. Still this one did have a proper bar, and Hawkeye intended to take full advantage of it. The fact the place is cluttered only makes him feel like he is back in the Swamp. Swinging up to the bar and making himself a martini Hawkeye sits down at a table in the middle of the bar. Ah cool, refreshing, real honest gin. Though what is that racket from the jukebox? Nevermind, small pain to put up with for some real gin.

[yourtieisugly]

If he wanted to be honest with himself, House would have to admit that he was more than a little impressed that the Vortex That Was managed to spit Hawkeye Pierce right into the middle of another army base. As far as existential penance went, this guy couldn't seem to get a break.

House was also reluctantly please that the guy was around because, growing up, Hawkeye Pierce seemed like the only guy on television he could see himself getting along with. What this said about House himself was open to interpretation.

He finishes his scotch and gets up to order another. When he walks past the gangly, gray-haired doc, he begins to hum "Suicide Is Painless" under his breath.

[boozeandsurgery]

Hawkeye himself couldn't believe that of all the places he could have ended up it had to be another army base. At least it was in the States."What is that tune? I seem to remember someone humming it back in Korea."

Now that he was thinking of Korea again Hawkeye didn't want to admit that just maybe, he might be missing everybody from the 4077th. Well he knew a good solution for that. More of this fine martini he had sitting in front of him.

[yourtieisugly]

"That tune," he began, "is the only thing they're going to play beneath your eulogy. It's the only thing you're ever going to be known for." At the bar, he traded his empty glass for one with substance. 'Thought about it and then, in a moment of abstract charity, ordered a finger of straight gin. He brought both glasses back to the table and tossed coasters down beneath them.

"Me, I'm gonna' close with a little Stills & Nash. And I want a beautiful, well-proportioned, weeping woman delivering my final epitaph."