Out Drinking

Evan wondered if Straga had noticed. It was hard to tell with him, because he was, one way or another, not human. He'd been socialized with different rules. He noticed different things. Had he noticed the last few times that Evan had declined to drink, saying he had plans in the morning? Evan drank when Straga offered, but otherwise he declined. His wallet was empty. There was nothing left to mine.

He needed a job.

Evan sat beside Straga, working his way through the second glass of water, and glanced over to Straga, clearing his throat.

"Don't exactly like to do this," he admitted, "but I had a favor to ask."

There was no right way to say it, was there? No easy way to just break it down.

"I'm going to try for a job," Evan said after a moment's pause. "Firefighter. What I was before. I don't know if they'll take me though, with my record being what it was. But I need an address to put down, and the one I have isn't exactly... good..."

Evan stopped. He couldn't quite making himself say it, and he downed his glass of water--as if it wasn't just water--and then steeled his nerves.

"I was going to ask if I could use yours."

"If they look into things, I tell them the truth," Evan said, eyeing the beer the bartender placed in front of him. He considered arguing it, and then swallowed his pride, taking the beer and knocking it back.

"I was a firefighter first. Then I was... quasi-military. But I don't want to go back to that, and the island doesn't have a military anyway. Firefighter was what I gave up my life to be the first time, so if I can get in..."

Well, then things would be a lot better, wouldn't they?