Just call me Rocket (thatguyseye) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-04 16:21:00 |
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Being back in the OC felt a lot like coming home. Sure, his Ma wasn't there waiting for him with lasagna and cannoli, but he had friends. People that he bonded with before he went back to the military to teach the incoming newbs. That's what they were even if they were coming out of basic training. They thought they were the shit. Rocket made sure they knew they weren't. Working with explosives came naturally to him. He was almost a prodigy while he was at AIT if it weren't for his lack of discipline. That was the only thing that stopped him from advancing further than Sergeant First Class. He shrugged it off, though, because he was still the best that they had. He was discharged from the Army (offered early retirement), but that didn't mean they couldn't call him back whenever they wanted. He half expected it considering the state of the world. But he tried not to think about it. Rocco had a good job at the Sheriff's department, and he didn't want to fuck it up. It wasn't exactly a dream job (Rocco hated listening to his sarge drone on about continuing education), but he got to work with explosives and that was about as good as he could hope for. The bar wasn't overly crowded when he arrived, and he settled down on a stool near the far end. He had a perfect view of the door so he could see Neal coming in. Man, he was happy that guy was still here, and the only thing that would have made the night better was if Gabe could have joined him. Rocco sat about as quietly as he could get, popping peanuts into his mouth as he watched the Knicks on the big screen. "You mind turning that up a bit, buddy," he asked the bartender with a finger pointing to the tv. |