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"Sir, you’re going to need to work with me. I need to make sure you’re not potentially infectious." The ace looked man dead in the eye, but kept his hands at his sides as he awaited his consent, half expecting the perpetually displeased looking conman to throw a fit. "Are you currently hurting anywhere?"

     Nick’s eyes narrow at the man he was unfortunate enough to come across after a rough encounter and now had to sit there while the man tried to aid him. Except Nick was horribly stubborn when it came to dealing with strangers. Especially ones in a uniform.                     ”I’m fine.”  The male spat, his arms crossed tight and defensively over his chest.

The man had been cross with him pretty much from the get-go, but Piers would remain unwavering. He wasn't buying into the fact that he was fine, either, unless you would consider being coated in grime and bruises fine. "I'm not doing this just for your sake." Piers insisted. "Do you want to responsible for another viral outbreak?" His patience was wearing thin; if no one checked him up now there would be the possibility of spreading the infection without even knowing, and infection spread fast. If anyone could attest to that, it was Piers.

"I wouldn’t overlook my drinking prowess that quickly if I were you." Piers told the woman from the other side of the table—it appeared the air was particularly competitive today. It was a welcome change for the soldier; who often felt like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Piers offered a small smile at her insert; the ace rarely had reason to smile but now, among his friends, he thought he could manage. For once, his mind wasn't whirling with the atrocities he was faced with daily, instead happily indulging in the boisterous air that lingered within the bar. "I'm pretty positive I'd drink you under the table. Are you certain you're up to the challenge?" The soldier put in, fully expecting her to order several more drinks in response to his taunt. Of course, Piers wasn't one to pass up on a bit of friendly competition, but he wouldn't allow himself to get pissed to the point where he wouldn't be able to tell the door from a person... though admittedly, Merah was doing a pretty good job of stringing him along for a challenge.

Chris waves to Piers. “Hey Piers!”

Piers fixed the all too familiar figure with a surprised look. "Sir?" He would inquire. "Do you need something?"

So many people that had died. There was no bringing them back, and there wasn't exactly an extravagant story as to how they'd died, either. It was simply a matter of luck, or lack thereof. So far, Piers had been lucky. They had not, and it was really starting to weigh down on his wary shoulders. But unfortunately for the sniper, people needed him, and today was no different. He had remained hard-faced, though all he wanted to do was give up--even if only for the night. Sherry's words were taken into consideration, his expression contorting into one of pain and desperation. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we'll never get to see the end of this." But at the insert that followed, eyes found her once again. "A future..." A nod, his hope somewhat rekindling. "I can live with that." He assured, empowered by the prospect of an infection-free future. "I'm sorry for breaking down like that. I imagine you've got enough on your plate as it is." Piers rarely had weak moments, but today... today had been godawful. "And Sherry? Thanks."

If possible, the sniper would attempt to catch the other's fall, shocked to see how battered the man was. "Sir?" Piers would inquire--he would be surprised if he man was still even conscious. "Are you alright?"

Dom sat quietly just under the edge of the awning, staring up and watching as the rain slowly began to fall. A few drops at a time at first, and then a little more, until it was a steady drizzle. Thunder rumbled softly over head, and it was still too soon to tell if it would rain any harder. 

Walking up beside the reclined figure, Piers would eye the torrent of rain Dom seemed to be mesmerized by before turning his attention to his reclined figure. Piers worried for the Corporal. He just hoped his absent-mindedness wouldn't affect his concentration and performance on the field--for everyone's sake. Distant thunder rumbled overhead, lighting up the sky brilliantly before fading back to its gloomy grey overcast. "What's on your mind?" He soberly asked, likely startling the other out of his reverie.

Piers ignored her statement, positioning himself beside her. “Don’t you want to talk about it?” He stated, peering at her.

Bright eyes peered out from behind her hand, a grumble passing her lips. “No. I don’t. Not… after what happened back there.”

Piers considered the possibilities. He could only imagine what'd happened, especially considering their line of work. In a way, she reminded him of Chris, devastated by the events surrounding his job. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Piers offered in his usual businesslike manner, his voice barely rising above a hushed whisper.