When Evanthe Curran waltzed up to the bar, Ber was already partially through a bowl of cheap stew and an accompanying cup of water. As she settled into the empty seat beside him, he had glanced over to the side at the motion, but not having immediately recognized her, he paid her little mind until the clinking of gold on the counter and the relinquishing of a bottle of whiskey caught his attention.

With the double take, he recognized her as Officer Curran, a paired witch he’d seen in passing but had never interacted with in any great capacity. He watched as she tossed back a shot and then glanced around the tavern. Ber didn’t glance away fast enough; they locked eyes. After a brief moment, he gave a brief nod and tipped his glass slightly at her in acknowledgement. “Ma’am.”

One face in a sea of countless unpaired soldiers, Ber hadn’t expected a paired officer to recognize him at all, but perhaps he had gained some notoriety after the ball. He nodded at the acknowledgement and turned back to his stew, spooning a few more bites into his mouth as he did his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes drilling into the side of his head.

When she spoke again, gesturing to his glass of water, he glanced over at her and then at the offending drink, but before he could offer a response, she had already passed judgement and poured him some of her whiskey. Somewhat amused, Ber reached out and drew the shot glass closer to himself, swirling the amber liquid once or twice as he looked back up at her. “Thanks,” He said, lips quirking upward for a moment before he gave her a slight toast and tossed back the shot. It burned going down. With some of the taste lingering on his tongue, he considered the now empty shot glass, which he returned to its spot on the wooden bar. “Not bad. Can see why you got the bottle.”

Pausing in the middle of eating another spoonful of stew, Ber glanced first at the refilled glass and then at Curran as she set the bottle back down on the bar. He swallowed that bite then shoveled another one into his mouth, gesturing to his glass as he did so. “You sure?” He asked, once his mouth was empty again. “You paid for this.” And he had no intention of paying her back for whatever he consumed at her behest.

Her question was answered with a shrug. As far as he was concerned, she had joined him, but he had no intentions of leaving just yet. And the water in his cup instead of whiskey? Wanting something more flavorful than what the mess hall had to offer, Ber had come to the tavern for a meal and nothing more, and water had proven cheaper than whiskey. With little desire to show up to work tomorrow nursing a hangover and the desire to save money, he hadn’t planned to buy any drinks tonight, but a little free alcohol couldn’t hurt.

Truth be told, Ber couldn’t say that he particularly minded drinking alone when faced with the alternative of drinking with a stranger, but he was more inclined toward solitude than most, even if he rarely enjoyed it. Still, with the way she seemed particularly keen to share the bottle with him, he doubted that he would manage to escape without at least this next glass of whiskey. It reminded him a little of Abbott trying, for whatever reason, to convince him to drink on the job, but neither Ber nor Curran were on duty right now, so…

Free drinks it was, even if he found the prospect of drinking with an officer a little weird. At least the whiskey would be decent. “Okay,” He said with a shrug before shoveling the last of his stew into his mouth and washing it down with water. Now that he had agreed to stay a little longer, they probably had to find something to actually talk about. Though he recognized her face, Ber knew nothing about her beyond her rank in the military. And, apparently, that she bought an entire bottle of whiskey when she chose to drink.

Well, that was something, at least. Pointing lazily in the bottle’s general direction, he asked, “So what’s the occasion? Or do you just really like that whiskey?”

“Something like that,” Ber agreed dryly, tone neutral but not remotely enthusiastic. He avoided further elaboration by reaching over and downing the second shot of whiskey, which she had poured him earlier.

Returning the glass to its place, he took another swig of water and glanced across at her when she mentioned buying the bottle to commemorate an anniversary. “Well, congrats,” He offered, assuming that it was a happy occasion, though he refrained from asking why she chose to celebrate by drinking with a random soldier in a tavern instead of doing something with friends. Assuming she had friends. Plenty of officers, like Woodwick and Abbott and probably even Terach and definitely Winters, were undoubtedly too irritating to have friends. Curran could have been the same.

As she poured him another shot, he eyed it for a moment – either she was oddly generous with her alcohol or really desperate for a drinking partner – but didn’t reach for it yet. Instead, he looked back at her and chose to answer her question. “Yep.”

Any drinking games? Ber glanced sideways at Curran, who seemed way more into drinking with a subordinate than he was about drinking with a superior, and failed to think of a polite way to say that he knew plenty of them but had no desire to play any with her. They weren’t friends, even if he had apparently unwittingly taken on the role of such companions this evening. So he sidestepped the question entirely.

“Not really in the mood for any drinking games tonight, ma’am,” Ber offered instead, reaching out and swirling the amber liquid in the glass in front of him. He set it back down and looked over at her. “You shipping out anywhere next season or staying here?” Loathe as he was to talk about work when he didn’t have to think about it, he found himself even less inclined to start any personal conversations with the veritable stranger sitting beside him.

Ber would gladly suit himself. More than willing to let her drink the bulk of the whiskey, he watched as Curran knocked back another shot and nodded at her reply to his question. “They’re sending me to Cambria,” He said in response to her own, lifting his own glass and swirling the liquid inside of it again. “Never been there before, or to Coheed. They sound like they’re pretty different from each other.”