Drabble me?

[deathpixie]

Since I'm finding myself rather bored, needing to keep myself awake, and wanting to flex the writing brain a little... Grabbed from [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], who got it from [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com].

Make a drabble request in comments and maybe I'll write something for you. Any of my normal fandoms/shows or if you just want to give me a prompt - anything!

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[deathpixie]

The bar was, by Tracey's usual standards, almost nice. Certainly a step up from the gin joints of Persephone, where the bar was a plank balanced on boxes and they served drinks in old cans with the tops sawn off. But given this was Ariel, it was probably one of the seedier places. Sort of on par for his life, really. At least since the war.

The war. He'd spent that time alternating between bored and terrified, and yet it was the only time things made sense to him. There were bad guys that you shot, and there were good guys who looked out for you. Like the Sarge and Zoe. He'd always felt safe with them watching his back. And sometimes his front - Zoe had nearly broken his neck once, hauling him by the back of his shirt away from the mine he was about to step on in his usual obliviousness. He wished they were here right now - they'd help him out.

Raising his glass, he made a silent toast. The cheap liquid burned his throat as it went down. Maybe this would be the deal, the one that would get his family off that frozen rock, the one that would set him up for life. Maybe this time he could play his cards right, make things turn out. It was this deal, or he'd might as well be dead.

Dead.

Tracey suddenly grinned, the expression almost boyish. Now there was a thought. And he knew just the people who would help, if he played them right. Ordering another drink, he held up the glass again. "Here's to you, Sarge," he murmured, and tossed the shot back.