Who? Scotty & Uhura Where? The pub When? After their trip through to Germany What? Heavy drinking to deal with life. Rating? Warnings for references to racism. Possible bad language. Possible innuendo. Etc. Open? Not really. Mitchell could have a cameo.
"Well, that was a fucking disaster," he was saying, as he disappeared behind the bar.
Scotty was sure they were meant to know more about human history, that they should have expected it. It had been an oversight. A really, really bad oversight. And of course he couldn't really understand how Uhura felt in that moment. All he knew was that he'd more than likely broken something in his hand, his fist definitely hurt more than that guys face, and he really didn't give a fuck. All he could do was provide a damn strong drink, and his friendship.
"Here. Get this down your neck," he told her, slamming two full glasses down on the table, followed by the bottle itself. He sat down opposite her, determined not to be weird, not to be overly sympathetic and annoying. No. He'd just get her drunk instead. It was Scottish empathy.