Glasses filled with whiskey and vodka shook as drunk men and women of the reception room at the base. Men and women dressed to the nines in their full dress uniforms, immaculately pressed, danced with locals. Streamers and fairy lights hung haphazardly from the ceiling, casting a warm light and energetic glow to the already-buzzing room. The band played modern jazz as couples danced.

Major Gale "Buck" Cleven sits in a stiff leather chair off to the side of the festivities, watching the crowd. He nurses a cold glass of whiskey, fingers slick with condensation. His best buddy John Egan sits beside him, as they people-watch together.

"You just need some action, Buck." John half-jokes, voice slurred with inebriation. Gale turns to him, the leather seat creaking with the movement. He snorts.

"Yeah, sure, John. Some action'll help," he snarks back, voice exhausted and slightly irritated. Gale puts his glass on the coffee table and stands, back cracking. He walks over to the Infantry's husky, Meatball. He coos softly, soft smile charming his face. He'd always preferred animals to humans.

"You wanna dance?" Gale kneels besides Meatball, and, without a further word, he scoops up the fluff-ball and makes his way to the dancefloor. He sways with the dog, a cocky grin plastered on his face as he glances over his shoulder at his buddies, who are drunkenly laughing and cheering.