Dean was at the bar with his squadron after the mission. The bar was noisy, with military men drinking, partying, and hitting on the bartender.

Dean slammed his palm down on the table, a white-toothed smile shining on his face. "Bartender, next round is on me!"

His words were followed by an approving whistle and yells. The bar was filled with noise, laughter and barely audible music. Many ladies were trying to get the attention of the military, regardless of rank.