If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me [Reida, Alastair]

Turned out those guys n' gals off in Jefferson had finally gotten home, and naturally, Reida was gonna be the one to welcome 'em all back. She was at her usual hole in the wall, her favorite little bar on the edge of the City of Lights. She didn't send any announcements out or anything like that, just bought people drinks when they came in, told 'em to call their friends.

"Hey, drinks're on me t'night, so drink up! Great work out there! Show them Shadow Fall faggots they oughta go burn in hell!"

She, of course, was already quite a few drinks deep, but that wasn't anything new for her. If anything, Reida was honestly more sober than she usually tended to be. The night was still young, after all, and she wanted to talk to anyone who'd listen.

"Hey! Mister big ol' hero himself! I heard ya made one mighty big impression over there! Can't tell ya how impressed my squad was when we read the file, y'er a regular hero."

Patting the barstool next to her own, Reida drank quite freely from the bottle she'd already made ample headway into, far from reserved about that sort of drinking. This was a party, after all, so she could drink a little more openly for once. Not that it actually mattered, really, she was always drinking anyway. Despite her initial jovial tone, however, Reida's voice did drop rather quickly. She had read the full report, after all.

"Sorry ta hear about what happened out there. I know y'all probably didn't think it'd be such a mess, huh? Caught y'all off guard. Wish I'd been there to help."

Another gulp of her whiskey, but less cheerful this time. Mostly to wash away the bad thoughts.

"Ya need to talk about it, I'm all ears. Now or whenever ya want."

"I getcha."

Looking Alastair over with her one eye, Reida knew that sort of demeanor all too well. It was one she'd worn a few too many times herself at this point.

"Well whether or notcha feel like a hero, you best believe people're still gonna call ya one, think of ya like one. Even if maybe ya coulda done more, don't let them sad thoughts distract ya from the fact that ya also coulda done a whole lot less. Ya with me?"

Of course, Reida herself didn't ever feel as though she could have done much less than she did. But that didn't change that, intellectually, she knew the advice was true. What weighed on her wasn't something that she had any real reason to feel guilt over. It was just grief, really. She wiped those memories away with another long sip from her bottle, then continued, her voice still supportive, reassuring.

"Few people still made it home, didn't they? Oughta stop in some time, check on 'em, see their families n' all that. But right now what's more important is ya make sure you're doin' alright. Ain't easy when all that's weighin' on ya, some days'll seem mighty rough. Hang on."

Rifling through the pockets of the jacket hanging around her waist, Reida eventually pulled out a pen and a notepad, writing down a phone number with only a small bit of difficulty before handing it to him.

"Gimme a call whenever that happens if ya need a hand, I've been around that block a few times."

"Hey, don't go thinkin' it's just for their sake that you're stoppin' in. Gotta see the people who actually made it home nice n' safe with their families, know you did that. Important ta keep in mind."

Settind down her bottle, Reida turned to properly face her companion, holding out a hand with a confident grin that seemed to border on outright cocky. Yet, despite that, it seemed almost hollow, as if the weight of this conversation had not yet left her shoulders.

"Reida Ray Copeland, at'cher service. Don't you start on that 'miss' though, I'm too old for that. 'Ms.' is what y'er lookin' for , but just call me Reida. Ain't no reason ta get extra polite with me."

"Maybe it does, but people're gonna give ya that credit anyway. Best ta let 'em have that. Might do ya a little good too."

Emptying her bottle as if it were nothing but water, Reida simply moved to a new one, seemingly unfazed by the sheer damage being done to her liver. Of course, her regenerative capabilities were at least enough to keep any long term health risks away, but it didn't keep the liquor from doing its job. Thank God, huh?

"I reckon that's a conversation for somewhere else, if ya wanna really go into it. I don't mind gettin' out of here with ya, gettin' a little fresh air. Up to you."

Reida stared down at the bartop for a short while, her gaze a bit more distant than before as she thought about how to answer that question.

"Some ways yeah. Some ways not so much. Guess it depends on how much ya beat yerself up."