The two soldiers bustled past and picked two stools at the counter. "Drinks sir!"
I eyed them suspiciously and stepped in front of the bottles that now lined the shelves. Everyone clearly had drinks in their hands. Liquor is not allowed in this area because of some local civil trouble with the native villagers. "We serve no alcohol here boys."
"Can it. We're not here to cause you trouble. We just want a dab of good ole English whiskey." He gave a rogueish wink and tipped his wrist back, miming a drink. "Our fellows told us this would be the spot for it.
"Well alright boys. Half price tonight!"
Bremerton was grey as ever in the morning. We snuck out of Gentry’s house and drove up the hill to a diner run by some folks who were at the show the night before. They kindly invited us to have breakfast, so we piled into a booth next to Kelly (former birthday girl and Hi Fidelity co-owner) and her friends. We had huge omelets and lots of coffee. Blythe also bought a painting by a local artist of John Wayne riding a Tauntaun through a psychedelic space background.
Over the din of a roomful, an Officer poked his head around the door. "Oi, you two." He shouted at the two young soldiers. "What're you doin' here."
The soldiers had had a few, so they raised their glasses in unison and retorted, "Havin' a drink sir!"
"You're in trouble now boys. Drinking in town where its illegal."
They looked at each other and worried.
"Now!" The officer shouted. "Now, you owe me a drink! I hear The Galt Line are coming this way."