Sam swirled the liquid in the bottom of the bottle, watching it slosh against the glass. He set it down on the bar and sighed. “The thing is, life is going to keep kicking me down whether I let it or not. Has done as long as I can remember, no matter how many times I get back up.” And he did always get back up. He twisted the bottle on the bar surface again, contemplating it but not actually lifting it to take another drink. “This time might just take me a little longer, but I’m not planning on setting up here permanently.”
He caved and lifted the bottle to his lips again, but it was a considerably more controlled drink than his previous had been. “You’re right, I am lucky to be alive. But there have been some close calls and a lot of them only went my way because of someone else’s sacrifice or because they got caught in the crossfire. We’re not exactly a family of talkers so sometimes I just need to wallow in that. Get it out of my system.”
Sam would never have said that he’d suffered more than anyone else, or that he’d earned the right to stop fighting - he knew that wasn’t ever going to be an option. But the odd night of binge drinking wasn’t too much to ask was it? Not if he could pretty much guarantee that he’d be back up to speed the next day.
He thought about what John had said though. “But just out of interest, how do you fight back when it’s the universe that keeps knocking you on your ass?”