(Star Wars X Attack on Titan) Attack of the Clones on Titan

Rude Introduction

"I haven't seen your kind come in here before," the bartender told Vaarc.

"Do you serve it?" Vaarc asked, placing currency on the table. The bartender seemed to notice the frustration on his face and softened their own expression.

"Yeah, we do," he said and stepped back. "What'll it be?"

"Whatever's strong," he sighed.

"You one of those fellas that work those machines?" the bartender raised an eyebrow and filled a shot glass.

"Yeah," he downed it and set it down for another.

"Then what's got you so stressed out?" the bartender laughed and refilled the glass. "You're all safe and cozy."

"Because I shoot the big canon," he leaned forward after the second shot, tapping the bar. "That means any Scouts that die while I'm present are on my head."

"That's not your fault, fella," he told him and prepared the third. "It's those idiots' faults for charging into the titan's mouths in the first place." The bartender laughed. Vaarc slammed the bar.

"THEY WEREN'T IDIOTS!!!" he shouted, earning glances from some of the other patrons. "Not all of them, anyway. Two of them were victims. Victims of a man playing a sick game." He drank and lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry." He heard the door swing open behind him.

"I thought I'd find you in here," Deniye sat down next to him and ordered two shots.

"You'll probably need the bottle to feel the effects," Vaarc moped.

"What are you doing, vod?"

"Having a drink," he gestured to the now-empty glass. "What's it look like?"

"Oi!" Deniye grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face him. "Watch your tongue, soldier. Now you wanna sit in here and feel sorry for yourself, that's fine. But don't you dare take out that frustration on your own, much less me."

"Then, with respect, sir, why are you here?" he reluctantly pushed the glass away and gave his superior officer his attention.

"I'm trying to figure why a man that has seen hell under my command for over three years is suddenly crushed after losing people he barely knows."

"Because I could've stopped it," Vaarc jabbed his thumb into his chest. "But I shot the wrong target. I shot the wrong karking one again."

"So this isn't as much about today than it is what happened on Sarrish," Deniye deduced. Vaarc finally let down his defense.

"Those two were some of the only people we'd met that actually treated us like we were living beings," he sulked and leaned against the bar. "I thought that I had learned from that battle to be careful with which targets I pick."

"Vaarc, nobody blames you for what happened to them other than you, and you're welcome to do so," his Major rested a hand on his shoulder. "But you can't let it drag you down. You shooting the wrong target didn't cost us Sarrish and you shooting the only visible living titan isn't what got Isabel and Furlan killed."

"I know, sir, it's just hard not to feel partially responsible for what happened," he finally admitted.

"I know, vod'ika, I know," he said and drank with him.

"How do you cope, sir?" Vaarc asked.

"That's not something I can tell you without a helmet," Deniye chuckled and stood up. "Let's go, brother."

"How much?" Vaarc asked the bartender.

"Just the first two," he said while cleaning out a mug. "Don't worry about the rest. You boys have a good night."