Alcohol: The best medicine. Who: Andrew & Elle What: DRINKS. Where: Starts off at Andrew's room, then at the bars. When: Around 11pm Rating: Probably R, for language. They've both got mouths on them. Open? To gshipman only.
Andrew had been crankier than usual lately. He'd been limiting his interactions with anyone in the kitchen to one word answers and anything over that was usually monotone and had an annoyed edge to it. He couldn't help it, he was just not in the best of moods, and he took it out on anyone that came into contact with him. Leaving the kitchen early after he almost took off a rookie's head for plating a dish wrong, Andrew made his way back to his room and plopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what he was doing, why he was so aggravated. He just was.
Glancing down at his hand that was almost completely healed, Andrew let out a sigh and got up from his bed. Fuck the rules. He hadn't taken his pain meds today, he hadn't needed them. So, instead, he was going to go out and get drunk. If Elle was up for it, that was. Sending her a quick message, she offered to meet him in his room, and Andrew got up to change out of his work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shoved his feet into a pair of flip flops just as he heard a knock on the door, and he moved over, pulling it open. "Woman," he said, giving her a small smile. It was good to see her. She'd been on the ship for what, two weeks now? And he still hadn't seen as much of her as he wold have liked. The two were practically attached at the hip when they were younger, for Christ sake.