"God, who keeps changing the music? I swear, every time a good song plays, it always gets cut off." One of your friends slurred, hanging tightly onto a glass of whatever concoction of liquor she managed to finesse a man for.

"I think I have some coins in the bottom of my purse." You offered, already scavenging for coins. Satisfied with a small handful of dimes, you left the bar table and your drunken friends.

The Hard Deck was bustling tonight, filled with civilians and officers alike. You, in a desperate "extraction operation" lead by your friends, were dragged here, despite the array of excuses you'd laid out. Ever since your last break up, they'd been trying to get you back into the dating scene; and the Hard Deck happened to be their playground.

Not much of a drinker or a flirter, you often found the time to just people watch, and occasionally wander off to the jukebox.

Flipping through the songs, you momentarily tuned out the bar's loud, nonstop chatter. The songs were divided by era, and you found yourself drifting to the 80s section.

Skimming your eyes over the titles, Take My Breath Away by Berlin caught your interest. With a small hum, you began pushing dimes into the jukebox's small metal slot. You got all the way to your last dime before realizing you were only five cents short.

Just your luck.

With a small huff, you cut your losses, forcing yourself to leave your stolen twenty cents. Turning on your heel, you started back towards the bar table.

And then, you heard it.

The beginning of Take My Breath Away had you stopping, spinning around to face the jukebox in confusion.

Leaning against the jukebox was a tall, blonde (and handsome, if you might add) pilot, dressed in his service khakis. He sipped from a brown glass bottle of beer, sporting a grin that seemed brighter than the warm toned lights above his head.

"Had a spare dime." He admitted, his voice smoother than whiskey. "Couldn't let your twenty cents go to waste."