#aboutthatdrink

[virgovixen555]

#aboutthatdrink #miami2016🌴 #saturdaynightliveinmiami #saturdaynight #dec #strawberrytequilamargarita

[mcpo-john-117]

About That Drink ~ ODSTAdrianFii

It was his own fault, really. 

ONI psych had begun recommending brief stints of leave for them all, much to the dismay of the powers that be. He'd managed to dodge it for longer than he really should have - between himself and command always able to find some mission, op, or battlefield that required his presence or attentions, some function or reason to keep moving and active - until at last Personnel had finally put their foot down and that was that. 

Cycled off active duty status, regulated to off-duty leave. 

It wasn't even shore leave, not that he was interested in that sort of thing. The idea of spending his afternoons on some bright sandy beach or his evenings in a crowded casino or bar of some kind were the closest thing to horror that he'd ever really felt - too many people, too much noise, and above all nothing to occupy his mind or keep his thoughts from wandering the dark roads of memory to the things he'd seen, the things he'd done over the years. If anyone knew his age, they'd scoff and say he was too young to feel so old, but if they knew the truth they'd sing a far different tune. 

He listened to the officer drone on and on, about what was expected of him during his stay aboard the UNSC Trafalgar, listening only for key words instead of the entire lecture delivered as if he were some sort of inexperienced rube straight out of boot. Maintain his PT standards, rise for morning colors, but aside from that, rest and relax, and above all else, stay out of his MJOLNIR per orders from-

It all bled together, and while the rest didn't phase him, the prospect of being stuck without that second skin stung more than he'd like to admit. Alone without his fellows, on a ship full of Marines and ODSTs, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck without his armor, vulnerable and unarmed. 

"Chief?" 

"Hm?" 

"I said you're dismissed." 

"Yes, sir." John-117 straightened immediately, rendering a proper salute before he took a single step back, a precise about-face, and took his leave of the ONI attache's office, catching up the bag he'd set down at his side in a single graceful motion on his way. Once in the halls, he resisted the urge to heave a sigh, painfully aware that such a break in decorum would both not go over well, and be visible without the protective gold polarization of his visor hiding his face from the world. If it weren't for his scarred features and hands, his black uniform with its distinctly different cut and style compared to the rest, he'd have looked like any other young soldier who'd just gotten a tongue lashing, not a man who was supposed to be relaxing. 

With any luck, the Covenant would attack and they'd decide he was needed after all. If not... it was going to be a very, very boring two weeks.