unfinished WIP (Inferno)

There were few times in the station's history that the bar was this packed. With the crew riding off a victory against nuclear operatives on high-fives and cocktails, the bartender had never been this overwhelmed. It was mostly the security department at first, but soon cargo followed, toting weapons they'd handed out. Engineering was busy building chairs just so they could get a taste, while medical dragged off those too drunk to know they were dying. Though most came and went, it came down to security and cargo again as the night drew on. In a rare moment, the two departments were on good terms. The QM bragging about how wonderful his workers were to the HOS, with the techs themselves mostly talking to whoever would listen. The miners didn't differ either, except for a conversation that was slowly packing heat between one of the more experienced miners and an officer.

"I'm telling ya, it's really no different from shooting goliaths," Hugh mentioned off-handedly, "Big, tough, mean, red bastards; they got that in common at the most".

"I'm pretty sure shooting wildlife that can't shoot back isn't the same as-"

"Can't shoot back? Hah! You wish," The miner retorted. Angelo took another drink of space beer, the familiar warm buzz of alcohol taking hold. He was growing tired of listening to the miner brag and boast.