The Kaiser Wilhelm Bierhaus was a rather modest, but popular and well-respected establishment. Built in the heart of Munich, Germany, it first opened its doors some eighty years ago in the midst of the Cold War which had split the country in two. Kaiser Wilhelm's was most popular with American servicemen stationed at the nearby US military base, until a falling-out between the United States and Europe over differing stances in the Indian Unification War resulted in the German government's 'request' for the departure of the pub's foreign clientele.

That was several years past now, and with the realities of the global community as it existed today, Kaiser Wilhelm was once again able to welcome patrons visiting Munich from abroad. The beerhouse attracted one group of foreigners in particular, though quite unwittingly: the world-famous but notoriously secretive Ascendant crisis team, 01. Tonight, there were two members of that unit paying a visit to the beer tap - one Lieutenant Gregory Barrow and (he hoped) his very unruly understudy... of sorts.

Domerin Lorcasf was not currently at his best. Actually it had been quite a long while since he'd been at his best. Lately it seemed the closest he came to being happy was when someone wasn't trying to put holes in him with a bullet. He'd sought the bar quite often lately, more often than usual, and he was starting to worry that perhaps alcohol wasn't the answer to his problems, but that hadn't yet stopped him from gravitating in that general direction. Tonight it wasn't the need for alcohol that eventually drove him to the doorway, but his search for the superior he most admired in the team. It wasn't that he didn't respect the person in charge... It was more like he didn't respect anyone on the face of the Earth more than he respected Lieutenant Gregory Barrow. There was a look of extreme relief on the young man's dark features when he paused in the doorway to scan the room and his eyes fell upon the form of the Lieutenant, though whether that was because he had finally found him or because he'd found him in the same place he could find alcohol was up for debate. Cautiously, almost with a hint of shyness, the young man slid into the room and approached the place where his superior sat. There was definite hesitation when he came closer, as though he was afraid of interrupting something important the other man might be doing. After a moment or two of this hesitation he finally called out tentatively, "Lieutenant? Are... Do.. do you have a moment?"

The officer turned when Domerin addressed him, locking him in his steady blue gaze. Gregory's features were arranged in an expression of perplexity at first, then smoothly changed to something more welcoming (relatively speaking) when he came to recognise the young man speaking to him. "Hm? Oh, Lorcasf." He spoke in the mildly surprised sort of tone one would expect from a person on the receiving end of this sort of social ambush, but the look of his eyes said just the opposite. "I thought I might find you here." Gregory pulled his attention away from his young subordinate just long enough to order two mugs from the bar. "Take a seat somewhere."

Domerin's heart did half a flip flop in his chest. Thought he'd find him here? Had the Lieutenant been looking for him? But... why? Perhaps he was in some bit of trouble for all the drinking that he'd been doing lately. But in his defense... it wasn't like he'd been showing up for duty drunk... he wasn't quite that stupid. But he couldn't really think of any other reason why his superior would come looking for him. After all... he wasn't anybody important, not like the Lieutenant. Silently he did as the older man bid him, pulling up a chair that was close, but not so close that he would crowd the other man, and settled down somewhat uneasily. It was a nerve wracking thing, being in the presence of one's Hero and being utterly aware of how unworthy one was to be in such a position. "Looking for me, Sir?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous. "Is there a problem?"

"I said I had a feeling," responded Domerin's superior in a slightly impatient, matter-of-fact sort of tone, and left it at that. Lieutenant Barrow was quite notorious for having those kinds of 'feelings'.

A young, blonde bar waitress arrived at that moment with their drinks, setting two frothing mugs of strong German beer on the table. She gave the men - soldiers, she recognised, even though they weren't in uniform - appreciative smiles before retreating, her expression especially gracious when turned on Domerin.

If Gregory noticed, he gave no indication of it. He lifted his drink by the handle and downed a large gulp from its rich amber contents, then set the mug gently on the table and nursed it with both hands. Never a man for subtleties, the lieutenant cut straight to the chase, "You've been acting weird. With everything that's going on at the top right now, the unit being put through the bureaucratic ringer, we don't need it."

Domerin offered the serving woman a slight smile, but though the expression lit his hansome features, it didn't even touch his eyes. It would take someone extremely familiar with him to catch the hint of nerves such attention from the woman awakened in him. It truly made him uncomfortable when such expressions were turned his way. He'd gotten very good at hiding it over the years. For his part, Domerin stared down into the amber liquid, catching some small part of his own reflection staring back at him. He was silent for a moment or two, and it took real effort to keep from clenching his fists on the counter where his superior would be able to see. "No weirder than I ever act." was the answer he gave; and it was hard to deny, since he'd never exactly been like any of the other members of the team. But that wasn't what he was thinking, and the slightly worried look he caught in his own eyes was enough for anyone to notice. There was something wrong with wanting to drink oneself senseless every night. What was worse, was that he finally felt he was losing the battle to keep himself from doing exactly that.

"Bullshit." Greg lifted his mug again and drank deeply, wiping a few stray flecks of beer foam from his mouth with a swipe of his hand before he brought it back down to the table. He fixed Domerin with a solid, unflinching gaze with eyes suddenly cold as ice. His young subordinate wouldn't be getting of the hook that easily, and where the lieutenant had merely been impassive before he was now considerably annoyed that he would insult his intelligence by trying. "Maybe you can fool the others with a dismissive line like that, but you're dealing with me. I know when you've got your head all wrapped up in something."

Domerin's head practically snapped side ways to catch that ice cold gaze, a clear sign that he was surprised by this last comment. He'd honestly thought no one bothered to take that much notice of him and what might be going on in his considerably messed up head. It came as quite a shock that anyone had bothered to wonder what was wrong with him, most especially someone as important and busy as the lieutenant. Was he the only one who hadn't been fooled? Surely the rest of his superiors wouldn't bother to waste their time with the likes of him. He wondered why the lieutenant was bothering now. Surely he had more important worries at the moment. He tore his gaze away almost as quickly as he had given it. Even if he hadn't respected the older man enough not to glare daggers at him, he'd learned how to be somewhat respectful to his superiors. He finally lifted the mug to his lips and savored the liquid within while he contemplated his response. Just because the older man had managed to sniff out the fact that he had a problem didn't mean he felt comfortable discussing it. "So what if I have? I do my job well enough. I'm not putting anyone else in danger. My personal business is my own."

Lieutenant Barrow pushed a soft sigh past his lips and leaned back in his chair, causing the wood to creak softly under the added weight. He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, something of a mild annoyance to him - not even thirty and his hair was turning grey already? "That's what you say, kid," Gregory replied, unconvinced. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table. "But I've got the lieutenant bars pinned to my uniform for a reason. Whether it's something to worry about is my call to make."

"Well if it's that bad then why don't you just send me packing?" He snapped in retort before he even thought about it and winced inwardly as soon as the words left his mouth. Hadn't this been the exact reason why he'd gone looking for his superior in the first place? But he couldn't actually admit what it was that was bothering him... it was embarrassing to begin with, and on top of that he doubted the other man would actually care, let alone understand. Domerin Lorcasf only fell deeper into himself, staring at the reflection of one of his own eyes in the mug that sat before him. "Maybe..." and the words were mostly a sigh. But he stopped short of what he was originally going to say and said instead, "I just wish there was someone left for me to talk to." His last form of solace in the world had finally deserted him completely, he knew that for sure now.

Gregory raised a brow just slightly at the other man's comments, particularly his first. Insubordination was something he rarely tolerated from those under his command, and emotional vulnerability due to some kind of drama in his personal life wasn't about to exempt Domerin from that standard.

Most telling, however, was his last. Great. Abandonment. "So the guy with the hair left you without anyone to converse with but me? That's a rough cut."

One midnight eyebrow twitched slightly. Domerin hadn't been aware that conversing with the lieutenant had even been an option. Though he wasn't quite sure why he was somewhat encouraged by the older man's comment. He didn't think conversing with the lieutenant was so bad. Sure it wasn't the same as talking to someone who loved you, but he was quickly learning that love wasn't exactly everything it was cracked up to be. He was smart enough not to let what was likely to be his only opportunity to say anything at all slip by. "'The Guy With the Hair' hasn't been responding to any of my letters or the single phone call I managed to get permission for, for at least three months, probably more." Domerin found it so easy to loose track of time these days. His voice was far more bitter than he'd meant to allow it to be, and not because he'd wasted a phone call... after all, it wasn't exactly like he had anyone else to call. "At least I always had my delusions until about two weeks back when the research institute finally got sick of all my letters and wrote to tell me that no one's seen hide nor hair of Kith for months... since about the time he stopped answering my letters cold. He just... disappeared." There. Now the older man had the whole of it. The whole embarrassing story. The only person he'd dared to trust since his father had basically tried to kill him had turned his back on him. Sadly he thought this hurt far more than his hateful, spiteful father trying to take him out of the world.

"Hm..." Greg swirled his beer around in its mug and closed his eyes thoughtfully. One of his men falling apart from a spurned romance was just about the last thing in the world he wanted to deal with. If he wanted to listen to other people's relationship problems, after all, he would have been a marriage counselor. But you did ask for this, he reminded himself lamentably. Damn. "Uh, listen, Lorcasf. You, um..." His words stumbled clumsily over his tongue, suddenly thick and unwieldy in his mouth. His dark eyebrows furrowed in irritation and cast a shadow over his features. "You're not a teenager mourning the loss of that cheerleading captain you had a crush on when she went to the prom with the... linebacker. Pull yourself together, soldier!" The officer mentally rolled his eyes at his own diatribe. Very smooth. I wonder why I never became a marriage counselor.

Domerin blinked several times, rapidly, as he tried to take in what his commanding officer was trying to tell him. It seemed to make absolutely no sense what-so-ever, especially when one considered that Domerin never looked at cheerleaders... it was rare indeed for a man to want to be a cheerleader. "Sir..." he said slowly, trying to formulate a non-insulting response that would somehow convey to the older man that he wasn't making any sense at all. "You are aware that I'm more likely to be eyeing up the line backer, eh?" He couldn't quite hide his amusement at that... at least something had broken through the heavy sorrow that had fallen over him. He took a sip of his beer to keep himself from doing something bad like laughing outright, and said somewhat somberly, "And no, I'm not. This wasn't some foolish crush..." Or at least, he hadn't thought it was. All those promises, all those plans about what they would do when 'this was all over with' and when Domerin was free... how could all that be thrown away over night? He let his words drift off and went back to staring at himself in the mug of slowly disappearing beer. What did it matter any more? He'd already been ordered to pull himself together. He supposed he'd better find some way to do it that didn't see him senselessly drunk every night.

Lieutenant Barrow made a rude noise at Domerin's response. Something else he didn't appreciate was when his subordinates poked holes in his metaphors. If he wanted to listen to other people's relationship problems while offering advice in the form of effective allusions, he would have been a marriage counselor with an English degree. "Then switch the two around, damn it. I don't care." He took another drink of his beer and grumbled something inaudible into his mug. Smartass. "Look, I know how it is when you're abandoned in the trenches. Not exactly the same, I know, but it's the same idea anyway."

He wanted to protest that it wasn't really the same, that being betrayed by someone you loved was entirely different, but being the soldier he was, he simply couldn't, because he knew that there was at least some truth in what his superior said. In a way Domerin wished this particular wound was more like the type he received in battle, the type that could be seen, that bled to clean itself, and eventually one could see it healing until it was completely gone. Domerin thought it must be impossible to heal a wound that tore his heart to pieces the way this one did. He didn't have to ask to know the deeper meaning behind what the lieutenant was trying to tell him. He had a choice. He could either curl up and let himself die, or he could fight to survive. The trouble was... he couldn't manage to find a reason to keep fighting to stay alive. Ever since he'd joined this team, in the months leading up to his departure, there had always been Kith, Kith had always been waiting for him. Who was left to care whether or not he was still breathing? "And when there's nothing left for you to go back to? Is that when you finally stop fighting and accept the inevitable?" He asked quietly, more than comfortable with using battle metaphors to discuss his love life, after all, he'd known little more than war since the time he'd turned 16.

"You've always got something to go back to, kid." Gregory finished off the remainder of his mug, then set it down in the middle of the table. "There's always someone who won't bail on you even when the rest of the world does. You've got the team now, and I'm not going to snuggle your ass or kiss you goodnight, but for what it's worth, there it is."

Domerin wanted to protest that, while that may have been true for most people, there wasn't anyone in the world who was waiting to see him, waiting to speak to him, wanting anything in the world to do with him. His father certainly thought he was better off dead, and it had been years since he'd seen or heard from his mother, he could only guess her opinion on the matter, and he guessed it didn't favour him. But before he could even complete the thought, the lieutenant continued his speech and that brought Domerin up short. Domerin hadn't really put much thought into his position on the team. He assumed he was there because they were stuck with him and hadn't really been given any choice about keeping him around. For some reason he'd only ever felt that he existed inside the group, but had never really become a part of it. Even now he did not feel that he really belonged to it... but perhaps he didn't have to. If there was one person he could turn to, one person who gave a rat's ass about his well being, would that be enough? Would it be enough if that one person happened to be the only person left on the face of the earth that he actually admired? He hardly felt worthy of presuming that the lieutenant gave a rat's ass about his well being, but then he hardly thought he'd go to the trouble of saying something like that if he didn't actually mean it. To show his appreciation he made a visible effort at pulling himself back to reality, instead of retreating inside his shell as he had been for most of the evening. He took another sip of the beer and fixed a sardonic grin on his face. "Sorry, Lieutenant." He said with some of his usual smartassed cheer, "But you aren't really my type."

The lieutenant's clear blue eyes came alight with the fires of righteous indignation at Domerin's smart response. He shoved his chair back from the table and swept to his feet, throwing his jacket over a shoulder. "Shut your trap before you find my boot lodged in that smart ass of yours," he snapped sharply. "And I better not hear any more whining from you from now on, damn it!"

With that firmly established, Greg threw a few crumpled bills on the table to cover the beers and stormed off before his subordinate could think of protesting.

It was some time around mid-morning when the knock came on Lieutanant Gregory Barrow's door, late enough that most of the team would have been awake long ago, early enough that it was odd for any of them to be looking for him. There was a brief pause and when no answer came there was a second set of knocks, somehow seeming far more urgent than the first.

It was a rare event when Lieutenant Barrow had a day to himself, so when one came around he took advantage of the windfall as much as he could. He ignored the first knock at his door in favour of his coffee and paper, hoping beyond all jaded expectations that the source of the disturbance would just go away. No such luck. Uttering a low growl in irritation, he threw the newspaper down on the table. "What!"

This was taking too long! "C'mon Lieutenant! Let me in!" The voice was a familar one. That of Domerin Lorcasf, slightly scratchy as though he had a cold. There was a slight pause after his first words. "Please!" came almost as an after thought. "Hurry!" was hissed a moment later. Clearly, whatever brought young Lorcasf to the Lieutanant's door, he considered it a rather urgent matter.

"The door's unlocked!" Greg snapped at the source of the familiar voice, agitation clearly growing in his tone. He growled again under his breath and turned back to his paper. Goddamn idiot.

Yes, because Domerin was going to barge in on his superior... that was a very good idea. But he was in a desperate situation, and he had basicly just invited him in... He turned his head and looked in both directions down the hallway.. there was no sign of anyone else. No one would see him enter. Quickly he fumbled for the door knob, slid the door open, flung himself inside and shut the door swiftly behind him. With a sigh of relief he pressed himself up against the closed door. He was safe now, for the time being. After a moment to collect himself, he glanced up, wondering where his superior was. Domerin looked quite frightful, normally he didn't go out in public looking this way, but this had been an emergency. His hair was unbound and tumbled over his shoulders and in his face. He was unshaven, his eyes blood shot. His head was pounding with the last remnants of hangover... needless to say, he'd had better mornings than this one. His eyes finally found Greg and he flashed him a greatful look. "Thanks Sir... you're a life saver."

It didn't take long for Domerin to spot his superior, seated at his small table set just off from the door reading the morning newspaper, nursing a steaming mug of coffee, and generally appearing to enjoy the quiet, relaxing morning. Until just now, anyway. He looked a far sight better than the younger man did this morning - though likewise unshaven, he appeared rested and refreshed, with the clean, slightly damp sheen to his skin and hair that told of a recent shower. "That's a little premature, Lorcasf." Lieutenant Barrow flicked his paper and raked his blue gaze intently over the text. At best, he seemed to be paying the other man only a passing notice. "This is my day off you're ruining."

Apparently whatever awaited Domerin outside the Lieutenant's room was far more frightening than his superior, because he barely winced. Instead he turned a dark, serious expression on the older man and shook his head slightly as he pushed himself away from the door. "I did a baaad thing." He crossed the room slowly, not because he feared the older man, but more because he didn't wish to intrude more than he already had. This was the home of the person he most respected in the world, after all, and he'd never seen much more of it than the door frame. "Actually, I'm not even sure exactly what I did, but I know it's baaad. Really, really baaaad."

"I'm sure it's just your imagination, Lorcasf. You kids think you do something 'baaaad' every time you crawl out of bed in the morning," the officer replied dismissively. He turned the page in his paper, and his brow furrowed. War, war, natural disaster, war, terrorists... was the world in a permanent state of lunacy?

Domerin Lorcasf turned wide, wild eyes on his superior and shook his head again. There was more than a little fear in his gaze, something boardering close to panic. Whatever he'd done, he certainly thought it was close to the end of the world. Hesitatantly he pulled out a second chair and sat across from the other man, giving him as much space as he could. "No, Sir... it's bad. It's very bad." He paused a moment and sucked in a deep breath, clearly steeling himself to say what exactly was so terrible. "There's a woman after me. I found her in my bed this morning." The dark skinned young man was rather pale at this admission. "I think I... I was very drunk last night, Sir." He squeeked slightly as he cut off half of one admission and switched to another very quickly. This was embarrassing enough without coming right out and saying it!

The slight arch of Lieutenant Barrow's eyebrows prompted by the relation of Domerin's shameful tale was the most the younger man had gotten out of him yet. He folded the newspaper methodically and placed it back on the table, then turned his steady azure gaze on his subbordinate. "Well good for you, kid. Having a healthy relationship with a woman is great for a young man your age," he missed the point completely, though whether he was being intentionally dense was a mystery. "If this is a poorly disguised play to get some back-slapping military machisma in recognition of your sexual conquests, though, you came to the wrong guy."

Domerin Lorcasf looked positivly horrified at the first statement, and most of the rest of his superior's words slipped past him almost unheard. Yes, for MOST young men his age it was a positivly wondeful thing! But not for him! "She won't leave me alone!" He cried, very much seeming an cornered animal. "She's on about how beauitful I am.. how this scar," he ran a hand over the scar that ran the length of one of his cheeks, "makes me so 'ruggedly handsome'. I mean.. what the hell?! You've gotta help me! I'd rather be shot than trapped in her clutches again. She's all over me! Geeze I think she wants to be surgcally attached to my hip!"

"Jesus, Lorcasf." Greg snorted and shook his head, savagely forcing back the laugh that threatened in his throat. He was initially rather annoyed at Domerin's intrusion, but what he intitially saw as the ruination of a relaxing morning had turned out to be something he wouldn't have missed for all the proverbial tea in China. "Most guys your age would give their left arm to have it that good. What's the matter with her? Is she hideous or something? Didn't perform up to your expectations last night?"

Domerin was miserable, and he knew his superior could see it. He was nakid and vulnerable in the eyes of the other man. Had it been anyone else he would rather have died than show such weakness, but he trusted Gregory Barrow in a way he trusted no other living human being. "What's wrong with her?!" he croaked as though he couldn't believe the man even had to ASK that question. He was doing this on purpose, damn the man! He knew exactly what the problem was! He was enjoying watching him suffer this way! "She's a WOMAN! That's what's WRONG with her! She's got the wrong parts!" And he waved his hands about in the air before finally letting his head slump down against the table. "It's a good thing I was drunk last night. I don't remember very much of what happened." It blunted the trama somewhat. It was a very little known fact that Domerin Lorcasf was almost completely terrified of women. Having awoken to find a nakid one in his bed was quite possibly one of the most frightening things that had ever happened to him.

Gregory quirked a brow at Domerin and coughed lightly to cover the snicker that nearly escaped after the younger man's frantic raving. Kids... so easy to manipulate, especially when exposed to adverse situations like the one Domerin found himself in now. "I don't think I like what I'm hearing out of you, Lorcasf," the officer declared sternly. "This is the twenty-first century. Are you a sexist, mister?"

For a moment, Domerin remained slumped against the older man's table, his entire body unmoving. Then slowly he shifted, raising his head so that it was just hovering above the surface of the table, his hair cascading down to brush the surface where his face had laid a moment before. Had he not known his superior as well as he did, he probably would have dropped to his knees right there and begged his superior to understand that he was mistaken. Domerin, however, understood that Gregory Barrow had a particularly odd sense of humor. In fact he also knew that half their conversations were conducted by saying almost exactly the opposite of what they meant. His red rimmed eyes were completely miserable, and his attempt at a glare actually looked rather pittiful with those dark circles under his eyes. "I hope you're enjoying this," he said somewhat acidly, his voice still scratchy. His head was pounding something terrible. He hadn't even gotten to take any asprin before he'd fled his room. A sigh followed and he let his sorry attempt for an acid glare die. "What do I have to do to get you to help me? You want me down on my knees begging? It'll be a sorry sight, Lieutenant but you know I'll do it."

After a final sip from his coffee mug which drained the last of its steaming contents down his throat, Lieutenant Barrow set it down on his table and drew a cigarette out of the half-empty pack laying nearby. He never let his nicotine out of arm's reach. He flicked his lighter and scorched the end of the rolled tobacco until a puff of blue smoke curled lazily into the air, breathed the soothing toxic fumes in deep, then purged them from his body with a heavy sigh. "I don't enjoy things, Lorcasf." The junior officer slid another smoke out of the package and waved it toward Domerin. "Have a seat. I'll call security to have her escorted out in a minute."

Domerin had already been reaching into his own pockets, searching for his pack of cigaretts and quickly realizing, with quite a bit of dismay, that he didn't have them on him. Being around someone else who was smoking always made him crave one for himself, and now that he no longer hacked out a lung every time he smoked a cigarette, he rather enjoyed them. He was only too grateful to accept the offered cigarette. When it was lit he inhaled the first drag with a great deal of relief. It did something to help the headache as well as the nerves. "Thank you, Sir." he said, in response to both the smoke and the solution to his problem. Now his eyes began to wander about the room, as his problem would shortly be taken care of but it wasn't exactly safe to leave yet. Almost immeditly his eyes were caught by something that seemed rather out of place in the home of a man like his superior. "Hey!" He exclaimed, sweeping to his feet and making his way over to the counter where the picture frame lay, carefully scooping it up to take a closer look. The picture was of a small child with blond hair and brilliant emerald green eyes. She couldn't have been more than five or six. She was wearing a pretty little dress and fairy wings, and proudly brandishing a small wand while she grinned broadly for the camera. "Who's this?" He asked, puzzled as he examined the picture of the little girl. He grew a somewhat sheepish grin. "You know, Lieutenant, you aren't supposed to buy the frames just for the pictures inside, you're supposed to put in someone you actually know."

Gregory nearly swallowed his cigarette when his gaze caught the younger man holding the photograph. "...s'mydaughter..."

Domerin was careful not to get smoke or dust on the picture frame. Even if he hadn't had a high level of respect for the other man and thereby his posessions, he would have been extremely careful of inadvertantly destroying something that belonged to one of his superiors. He choked on his own teasing at the man's response and turned to stare at him for a solid thirty seconds before a slow grin spread over his features again. "Nah, seriously, Lieutenant, who's the kid? You're niece or something?"

Domerin's superior plucked the cigarette from his lips and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He turned a hard stare on the younger man, cold blue eyes deadly serious. "I'm not kidding, Lorcasf. That's a picture of my girl from last Halloween. She's a fairy." Greg replaced the cigarette in his mouth and drew from it slowly, a dark shadow passing over his features. His family, as strange an arrangement as that was, wasn't something he was normally very public about. "Her name's Selene."

It was a good thing that Domerin had taken the cigarette out of his mouth for a moment because his jaw dropped open and he found he couldn't close it for a few moments. If he hadn't been holding it, the cigarette probably would have dropped to the floor and singed the carpet, and then he probably would have been as good as dead. "You've got a kid? What kinda crazy woman let you spawn?!"

What kind of crazy woman indeed? Lieutenant Barrow certainly didn't harbour any sophmoric self-esteem issues, unlike - in his opinion - the young man who stood at the other end of his room, but he was realistic. There were no self-aggrandizing illusions that he was popular with the fairer sex. Not that it concerned him very much, but this wasn't an aspect of his persona that he felt particularly inclined to explore with his subbordinate. "You being an expert on women's romantic preferences to make that kind of judgment," he dodged instead.

Domerin cleared his throat uncomfortably and replaced the picture, returining the cigarette to his lips so that he could partake of more of the nixious fumes he so enjoyed. Point taken. "You're um... S..Selene there makes a cute little fairy." He tried to change the subject slightly before he dug himself his own grave. "Very cute, with the wings and all." He made a vauge motion with one hand and then coughed uncomfortably. Yeah. Smooth. It was too bad that cute little girl was going to grow up into the exact thing that Domerin feared most - an actractive woman.

"Yes, she does." It was difficult to argue with that. He thought that Selene looked positively radiant in that ridiculous getup, but that might just be his paternal bias. "She told me she saved up her allowance for the wand. She was pretty proud of herself for it... wouldn't shut up about it at all in her letter." The lieutenant took another drag of his cigarette and sighed softly. "She's six years old there. Almost seven by now, though."

Domerin wasn't quite certain what to say at this point. The obvious question was what the hell is he doing out here with us if he's got a kid growing up without him at home? But that wasn't exactly an appropriate question for someone like Domerin to be asking someone like Gregory Barrow; nor was it any of his business. Besides you know exactly what he's doing out here while she grows up without him at home. He's making the world a place his little girl can live in without spending every moment in absolute terror. "She writes letters to you herself?" He was somewhat surprised at that. Not only was she a little young to be writing letters to far away soldiers, but Domerin imagined the memory of a child her age was fairly short term, and he could guess how long it had been since Gregory Barrow had had a chance to see his little girl in person.

"Her mother helps her," Greg explained to the younger man while his mind idly wandered back to the last time he was on leave in the United States. Selene was four, a little nervous to be in the presence of a man who her mother explained was her father, but she held no recollection of. Domerin imagined correctly, if his daughter had any real memory of him at all it was limited at best. But that was the hand life had dealt them. "She thought it would be a good idea to write often."

Domerin nodded almost absently. Of course it was a good idea if the two parents were going to try to keep some semblance of familiarity between the child and the absent parent. Domerin couldn't imagine having that kind of family... but then Domerin couldn't imagine having any kind of family at all, nor did he ever plan on having children, especially since having a child would involve.. well doing what he must have done the night before. The thought of it made him shudder slightly. "She seems like a pretty amazing kid." He said softly, not sure how else he could compliment the older man on his long distance family, not really comfortable with prying any further. He glanced back at the picture again and couldn't help but be somewhat taken in by those brillant emerald coloured eyes.

A small grin played across the officer's features at that moment, but he quickly killed the expression. "Yes, she is," he muttered, disguising a brief chuckle with a noisy cough, presumably the result of inhaling too much smoke in one breath. Then Greg cut a glance toward Domerin, his eyes completely earnest as he added, "Maybe after last night, you'll be lucky enough to know first-hand..."

Domerin paled considerably at that statement. Had that been how it had happened with Greg? No.. no he couldn't believe the older man was capable of something so... irresponsable. Domerin sincerely hoped that the woman he'd somehow managed to do the deed with had been less drunk than he and remembered protection. He sure as hell couldn't imagine he'd remembered it, considering he couldn't even remember much after he'd downed his sixth glass of whiskey... "Good GOD I hope not!" he shot back, "It's bad enough some woman managed to get me in bed somehow, can you imagine MY spawn running around in the world?"

Lieutenant Barrow smothered the remains of his spent cigarette into an ashtray, then regarded Domerin again, not allowing the grave seriousness of his expression slip the slightest. "Don't be so certain, Lorcasf. Two young kids, drunk on alcohol and overcome with desire... I've been there, you know, once before." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the photograph, and let his meaning carry itself. He declined to inform his subbordinate that Selene was the result of something with a little more substance than a one night stand behind an alcoholic haze, of course - it wouldn't be half as fun otherwise. "My advice is, don't listen to all those people who say 'making love' is some kind of magical, spiritual act with elves and unicorns and whatnot. It's for making cute little girls who dress up like fairies for Halloween. Best treat it with more respect next time... if you even get a chance for a 'next time'."

Domerin Lorcasf was going to have a corinary at a very young age. He could have dropped dead right that very moment, but then that part of him that so adored and respected his superior spoke from deep inside his head and reminded him that not only did he think the older man incapable of such thoughtless actions, but he had been throughly enjoying Domerin's suffering only minutes before. Still, it was difficult to shake off the overwhelming panic that came with the thought of having a child of his own with some strange blonde woman running around in the world, and him forever trapped in some bizarre relationship with said blonde woman whom he'd found in his bed that morning. "You'd have to be pretty drunk for there to be elves and unicorns." he muttered half-heartedly. Gregory Barrow had succeeded in getting his entertainment. This from the man who enjoyed nothing.

"You'd also have to be pretty drunk to sleep with the wrong sex," Gregory supplied as he pushed himself up from his seat. Evidently he wasn't going to let this business of Domerin mistakenly sleeping with a woman go for a good, long time. The lieutenant made his way into the tiny kitchen area he'd been afforded with, pushing a hand through his damp salt-and-pepper locks before he reached for the cupboard where he kept his glasses. "Have some coffee. It'll take the edge off that headache." He opened the cupboard door and snatched up the other half of his glassware. Setting it down on the counter, he filled it with the dark, steaming liquid from the coffee pot, then picked it back up and handed it off to Domerin.

Domerin was trying to savour the last of his cigarette, but it was fairly hard with all the terrible reminding of his mistake flying about the room. His pale features were momentarily flooded with color as he blushed. He had been fairly plastered the night before. It was what he got for not sticking straight to beer, but he'd been having a particularly hard night and he'd needed something good and strong. He'd come a long way from the nightly sulking after the disapperance of his boyfriend, mostly because of the words and friendship from the Lieutanant, but he still had nights where he just couldn't quite shake the terrible sorrow that came with thinking about the loss of his lover. Slowly he was letting go of the hope that the other man might still be alive, but he suspected it would be a long time before his wounds healed, if they ever did. He snuffed out the cigarette butt and accepted the cup of coffee greatfully. His head was bothering him, the pounding was getting so bad he could see tiny black spots every now and again, but the thought of going back to his room and fishing out his asprin while that woman was still lurking around looking for him made the pounding seem a dull pain indeed. "Thank you." He said, deciding not to respond to the comment about his grevious mistake. He suspected he'd have several years to come up with a better retort than 'I was completely plastered'. "At least once you get rid of that blonde chick I'll be able to shove some asprin down my throat."

Lieutenant Barrow dipped his head in a slow nod and offered up a noncommittal grunt in response while he poured himself another cup of coffee. "Blonde, is she?" He moved back over to the table and lowered himself into the seat he'd previously abandoned. "That's a shame. I have a bit of a thing for blondes. You could probably infer that, though."

Domerin coughed rather uncomfortably as he almost choked on a sip of hot coffee. He could NOT infer that! As if he would even TRY to imagine his superior with a woman, especially one with which he had a child! What kind of pervert did the Lieutenant think he was. He quickly hid himself behind the rim of the coffee mug as he took another sip, allowing him enough time to compose himself before he slid back across the room and again sat down across from the Lieutanant. "If you really want her, Sir, I don't mind. Just keep her from trying to strangle me with her death grip embrace and you'll have my eternal gratitude."

"No, no." The officer leaned back in his chair and held his hands up to forestall any more discussion along those lines. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Lorcasf. There's only one cute blonde on my mind these days." It was more or less the truth - Gregory hadn't been with another woman since Selene's mother. Somehow, entertaining an affair with a woman - no matter how casual or serious - never seemed right after that.

At least Domerin wasn't too dense to realize he was talking about his little daughter from the picture. It was somehow very odd to imagine his superior having a child. He imagined the lieutenant must have been fairly protective of her. He must have been proud, the little girl in that picture was full of life. But somehow, he had a hard time invisioning that... softer side of Lieutenant Gregory Barrow. It seemed somehow.. out of place when compared to what Domerin knew of him. He sipped from his coffee again. "I don't really care who she attatches herself to, as long as it isn't me."

'That softer side' didn't exactly exist when it came to Lieutenant Barrow. At least as far as he was concerned, fatherhood hadn't engendered such a thing in him - he was still as hard and unyielding as ever, Selene just thought that made him 'silly'. His distant nature and perpetual scowl was apparently a subject of great amusement to his young child whenever he visited. "In that case, why don't we see if the MPs catch her interest?" Greg lifted himself out of the chair again and walked across the room to the telephone that hung from his wall. He snatched up the receiver and held it up to his ear, then thumbed a button on the keypad and waited for the security office to pick up on the other end. "Lieutenant Barrow here. We have a trespasser on the seventh floor - female, blonde hair, likely in the viscinity of Sergeant Lorcasf's apartment."

Domerin again hid himself behind the rim of his mug as he downed some more of the coffee. Oh this was sooo embarassing. He knew he'd brought it on himself, but he severely hoped no one else caught wind of this incident. Especially since very little of the team actually knew about his particular preference. The last thing he needed was to spend the next few weeks being congradualted on his fine catch. Being reminded of this experience wasn't high on his list of fun things to do. He waited until the Lieutanant was off the phone before he quietly said, "Thank you. I suppose I owe you... again."

The security office acknowledged Lieutenant Barrow's request and hastily extended a promise to deal with the situation immediately. With a muttered "Thanks," Gregory hung the receiver back on the phone and turned back to face Domerin as the younger man addressed him. He paused for a moment, nodding thoughtfully as though considering Domerin's words while he gingerly sipped at his fresh mug of coffee. At length, he lowered the cup and nursed it with his other hand, then attacked his guest with an open smirk. "You certainly do... ladykiller."