Doc followed Anders over to his private booth. Doc spent a good deal of time in the lounge as well, but he had yet to claim a particular chair as his own. Though he did fancy the one in the far corner with its back to the wall. It gave a good view of everything and everyone. But it wasn't comfortable to sleep in. He knew, he'd already tried. Twice.
At the mention of heroes, Doc had to shake his head.
"Now, that is something I cannot agree with. My daddy came back having lost the war, but he was most definitely a hero. As were all the other men who fought alongside him. I don't see that bravery or fortitude have anything to do with which flag is still flying at the end of the day. In my experience, courageous people find themselves on both sides of the fence."
When invited, Doc set his book and bottle on the table. Then he joined Anders in the booth, idly (but curiously) glancing over the man's belongings. The rifle was unfamiliar to him as was the book that Anders carefully set aside, though he recognized the contents on the basis of the cover and title. The family photo was interesting and reminded Doc of his extended family. He himself was an only child on account of his older sister dying shortly after birth, but he had dozens of cousins that had always made him feel like he was part of something bigger. Still, as before, he minded his own busybody behavior. For the time being anyway.
"Purgatory," he said, taking another sip of whiskey. "Not the, you know, real purgatory. That's just the well-suited name of the town I was last in before I arrived here. Purgatory by way of Georgia, Pennsylvania, Texas, and most of the western territories. I don't tend to stick around in one place too long."
Oh, the man said planet. Doc shrugged.
"All that would be on Earth, last time I checked. I guess that means you're from a might farther away."