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"I was being friendly," Evan replied with a smirk. "Me and your sister were damn friendly we got deployed." It was troubling to hear that not even Tuck knew how she was doing, though.

"She's not dead, man," Evan assured him, his grin dying at the look on Tuck's face. "There's no stone out there for her. I looked--I looked for you, too. Figured you're too damn stubborn to die, so someday you'd be back to be a pain in my a**. Sure enough..."

"Guess I'm just gonna have to try harder," Evan said on a sigh.



Normally, Evan liked to stick around the kitchen to watch to Tuck do dishes so he could laugh and point out all of the spots the other man missed while he sat back and relaxed. This time, Evan only indulged himself for a few minutes before wandering back to his room to retrieve the promised alcohol. It wasn't that he was in any rush--he just didn't want Tuck seeing where he kept his stash. Not that Tuck could have found it, of course; Evan squirreled it away like he was waiting for Deus to institute prohibition, and it was well hidden. This bottle, especially. He had been saving it for a birthday to mark another year somehow still alive or his eventual promotion to full Hunter, but the memory of a friend was worthwhile, too, and infinitely less selfish. Alcohol shared was a hangover halved, in any case.

Even after Evan had unearthed it, he brought it back down in a plastic shopping bag. He wanted it to be a surprise, and he didn't want anyone he ran into to get any bright ideas. He wasn't about to waste the good stuff on a random stranger.

Tuck was still washing dishes when Evan got back to the kitchen. "Come on, Bubbles, aren't you done yet?" He teased, smirking smugly. He had missed having someone to let loose and joke around with. For all that they insulted each other, Evan had missed his big, dumbass Moon.

"Where the ******** do you think breakfast comes from, dumbass? You're the one who wanted every ******** breakfast food known to man." Tuck wasn't wrong, though. He hadn't used the garlic press, and he had only used two spatulas. Still, the thought of Tuck smelling everything in the sink just in case brought a smile to his face.

"I was out of paint thinner," Evan shot back. "Can't believe I have to waste the good stuff on someone who used to eat soap as a kid. He raised an eyebrow as Tuck declared himself finished. "What, you're not gonna dry? What if someone else comes in and wants to use that s**t?" He tsked and shook his head in disappointment.

Evan opened his mouth to deny Tuck's baseless accusations, but thought better of it--Tuck was right. Instead, he shrugged and nodded and resolved to use twice as many dishes the next time someone decided to wake him up for breakfast.

"I need to get a little shitfaced, putting up with you so early in the ******** morning," Evan muttered loudly enough for Tuck to hear him as he led him through the cafeteria and out the building.

They wound up at the beach because Evan liked watching the sun rise and he was the one holding the bottle, besides. He pulled up some sand and didn't rush in revealing the bottle, keeping the purple velvet bag it came in safe from the sand by keeping it in the plastic bag, which he didn't care about. He uncapped it and took a deep pull, wincing as he swallowed before handing the bottle off to Tuck. "This is the good stuff, so don't waste it, and I swear to God if you vomit on me I will drown you in the ******** ocean."

Evan nearly choked on his next swallow as Tuck asked some random, out of the blue question. "No," he replied, his voice hoarse. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at the other man with wary incredulity. "I know what I'm doing here. I'm killing s**t that normal people can't." He shook his head and held the bottle out for Tuck to take. "Where'd that even come from?"

"You can't be that drunk yet," Evan said, giving Tuck a curious glance. Tuck hadn't been nearly this 'philosophical an' s**t' before he'd been deployed; what had happened to him, wherever he had been? Obviously he had come back in one piece, but that didn't mean he'd returned whole. Evan made a mental note to keep an eye on him, just in case.

The alcohol burned pleasantly as Evan took another sip before handing it back to Tuck. "No, we never talk about that s**t. Most of what he says doesn't make sense anyway."

/Rude! I can hear you, you know!/

"Why, what's yours been saying?" He didn't bother asking if. Clearly something had happened; this wasn't usually the kind of thing that came up as a hypothetical.

That was worrisome, though less than the fact that Tuck had been carrying this around with him for so long. Evan took a drink as he considered the implications. "How would it know him?" He wondered. "Did it say his name? Maybe it was just talking s**t to keep you from killing it. Trying to throw you off to save its own a**. Not a bad tactic," he grudgingly admitted. He hated to give the monsters any kind of credit.

He conferred briefly with Gir, who gave him the mental equivalent of a blank stare as Evan prodded him to try and remember if he recognized any of the creatures they had encountered.

"Nah, Gir doesn't get anything from the monsters but full when he eats them. I don't know if anyone's recognized him, but I don't really stop to ask before I kill 'em, either, y'know?"