Zinda had heard the approach, but assumed it was a guard until Steve spoke up. She couldn't help it when a small chuckle escaped her. She looked back at him and motioned for him to join her. "Not so mucha a preference for bourbon as a love for anything you could drink in a celebratory manner."
She pulled another plastic cup out and poured him one as well. It didn't matter if he drank it or not, but yes to the toast. She cleared her throat and lifted her cup. "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary 'em, nor the years condemn. At the goin' down of the sun and in the mornin', We will remember 'em." It was borrowed from the RAF, but Zinda had always liked it. Short and to the point.