PERMANENT HIATUS

    "There a reason you're starting at me?       Do I have something on my face?"

    "I can't decide if you being here is a good thing      or it means the world is in trouble."

Part of him was upset that he'd already offered his name to the soldier, wishing he could add some fancy title he didn't know much about. He was a man parading about as someone he wasn't, and he couldn't care less about who he was supposed to be. This was a gig, nothing more. It was him waiting, wishing. Though he had to admit, he was pretty partial to the 1940's. The booze was better, the girls and the boys were hotter, and the attire was to die for. He had a feeling this coat was going to become a regular part of his closet for the next few decades. "Pleasure to meet you Sergeant." He shook the hand before dropping it, leaning over on the bar counter. He didn't know anything about the America army, never really one for American dos despite the accent. But he knew enough about the British military to pretend to get by. "RAF. You could say, special forces. Top secret." The wink was accompanied by a slight chuckle. What more could he say? Top secret organization that had sent him to Russia to track down a rouge alien? The world didn't know about aliens. They weren't ready yet. That was part of his job. And he did do his job well. "What're you drinking soldier?"

"Well then stop pushing me away and let me help you figure it out!"

      Not as hard as you'd think it would be.       I found myself in a place where I could       stay put. I was waiting for someone.       In fact, I was waiting for someone when       I first met you.       But now I'm a bit more of a wanderer.       It could be a lot worse. At least it's sorta       accurate?       I'm kidding. But uh, I am glad to see you.