Choice

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Allen let out a weary sigh, his breath mingling with the soft hum of the bar's dimly lit ambiance. The cool glass of his beer pressed against his forehead offered a fleeting respite from the sweltering memories that seemed to press in on him. 

"This ain't exactly my first rodeo, you know." He murmured, his voice carrying the weight of other unresolved feelings and memories.

Mel, seated opposite him, toyed with her own bottle, twirling it in lazy circles as if caught in a trance. "Yeah, I hear ya." She replied, her gaze lost in the liquid.

The booth they occupied was nestled in the secluded corners of a bar known only to a select few - a sanctuary from the chaos of everyday life. Each sip of beer was a moment of calm to their weary souls, offering a fleeting moment of solace in a world that seemed determined to grind them down.

"After this, I'm going home." Allen mumbled, sitting back into the plush cushions of the booth.

"Back home?" Mel's voice carried a hint of curiosity, her eyes flickering with interest.

"Not just back to base." Allen clarified, setting his beer down with a decisive thud. "Back where it all began. Y'know, home."

A smile tugged at the corners of Mel's lips as she raised her bottle to her lips. "Count. Me. In."

"You have the vacation days?" Allen asked her, grabbing his beer again.

Mel leaned forward onto the table, her playful demeanor contrasting the moment. "Hell no." She admitted with a smirk, her cheek pressing against the cool stone surface. "Burnt 'em all to escape that Oraxsis nightmare."

"Ah, Sector Twelve." Allen murmured, a distant look in his eyes. "Spent a good chunk of time commanding there myself."

With a sudden burst of energy, Mel reached for his beer, her determination evident in the glint of her eye. "Come on, cowboy, let's skedaddle."

"What's gotten into you?" Allen chuckled, pulling his hand back just enough to prevent her from taking it.

With a playful pout, Mel reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his as she made a grab for the beer. "I'm just getting warmed up." She teased, her laughter echoing through the quiet of the bar.

"I'll have a word with your commanding officer." Allen sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. "A few weeks' leave shouldn't be too hard to come by."

"You fucker!" Mel exclaimed, leaping to her feet and enveloping him in a tight embrace. "I knew I could count on you!"

"You're as drunk as hell." Allen chuckled, gently removing himself from her embrace and guiding her back to solid ground. "Think you can still walk?"

...

"I'm gonna piss myself."

"Dammit, Mel."

====

...

...

...

"And that's roughly where we're at." Allen spoke, turning to face the two he called earlier.

Harper, her brow furrowed in contemplation, brought her hand to her chin, lost in thought amidst the whirlwind of problems. "Right..." She murmured softly.

"We're fuuuuuucked." Mel chimed in, a resigned nod accompanying her words. "I thought we would've had more time, don't cha' think?"

Allen let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the array of screens before him. "You wouldn't be wrong for thinking so." He admitted. "If they had come just a week later, our logistical network would've been set up. But being stressed so early, cracks are beginning to form. Getting anything on short notice is nearly impossible."

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