[For Nixon]

[fourforone]

The morning hasn't exactly been pleasant and the more I sit in my room staring at the wall, the more I feel myself gravitating to that place where the world goes muted and I can barely tell what's up from down. I can't just sit here and be this man again, not when so much of Easy is around. Not that they respect me or anything, which this morning

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[vat_69]

It's still completely fucking miserable outside. Lew can't say he's got any complaints, as the Officer's Club beats the hell out of a cold, damp foxhole any day, but he'll be glad when the rain lets up.

The door's already cracked open, and had things been different, Lew's pretty sure Buck would've just come right in without invitation. Lew's not the same kind of man as Buck, so he doesn't think he's ever going to get that affronted masculine thing, but the jolt of it, the deception and the misery he understands all too well.

He pulls the door open and claps Buck on the shoulder. "C'mon, I've got something for you," he says, and steps around him, out into the main room and then downstairs to the cellar.

[fourforone]

I follow along because hell, it's momentum and I'm already being tugged in one direction. Might as well just go with it and listen to all those principles Newton was so kind to make up. "I'm not staying long." It's all I say, standing at the top of the stairs to the cellar. "Just wanted to tell someone where I'm going."

It's like pulling nails out of teeth at this point and I just want to get the hell out of there so I don't have to keep the pieces glued together anymore.

[vat_69]

Lew's careful with the lock on the gate, afraid of electrocution since Pepper informed him of the extra security that had been placed on it. He doesn't answer Buck right away, but rather steps inside, flips on the lights, and sets about perusing the rows of bottles with a critical eye. At length he finds what he's looking for, pulls down a bottle of single malt and double-checks the label.

He meets Buck back at the door and presses the bottle into his hand. "Try to make it no more than a couple days," he implores with a knowing arch of his brows. "Dick'll worry himself into a stroke."

[fourforone]

Normally, I'd have made some kind of joke, something about not wanting to worry the poor man's health just because he missed my pretty face, but I can't even muster that and my gaze has gone distant, staring at rows of alcohol as I tighten my grip just enough so the bottle doesn't slip.

I stare down at it, knowing it'll give a good shock at some point, but I don't want alcohol just now.

"It was," I begin, very slowly, "a very stupid notion that any respect I might have earned would have carried over to this place." Still staring into the distance, I express that, mouth parted and eyes glazed.