Inspired by a conversation w/ a friend.
PANEL 1. A bar. Not the cleanest. 1944. The floor is littered with UNCONSCIOUS SOLDIERS, who have passed out. One SHORT, HAIRY INDIVIDUAL still sits at the bar, smoking a cigar. A BRUNETTE WAITRESS stands behind the bar, wiping the only clean spot in the place—this was a party.
A tall, muscular silhouette is splayed along the floor of a man standing just OP.
NARR. CAP: Normandy. 1944.
OP CAPTAIN: Now, how did I know I'd find you in here?
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: S'not hard to figure. Pull up a stool, bub.
PANEL 1. Close on the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL, staring down his cigar at the mostly-full bottle of Whiskey. The broad-shouldered CAPTAIN makes his way across the floor, stepping around PASSED OUT TROOPS on the floor.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Hell of a week.
CAPTAIN: … Agreed.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Siddown. Drink.
PANEL 2. THE CAPTAIN stands closeby, but hasn't sat down. He faces the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL, HAIRY faces the bar.
CAPTAIN: I don't usually—
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: You do today. Siddown. Drink.
PANEL 3. We're behind them now, facing the bar. The BARTENDER, HÉLÈNE, approaches. The CAPTAIN sits higher on the stool, he's easily 6 ½ feet tall. There's a shield strapped to his back, red white and blue, shaped like a policeman's badge. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL is easily a foot shorter.
CAPTAIN: What happened in here?
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Couple o' things.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Deux, s'il vous plait.
PANEL 4. Same. HÉLÈNE smiles, blushing, as she scrounges up a second clean glass.
CAPTAIN: I didn't know you spoke French.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Do when there's a French girl to speak it to.
PANEL 1. The CAPTAIN holds up a glass of whiskey, eyeing it, surprised to see it in France. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL is OP.
CAPTAIN: Where in the world did you find American Whiskey, in France?
OP HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: I didn't.
PANEL 2. Close-up on the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL'S mouth, talking around a cigar.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: It's Canadian.
PANEL 3. Further down the bar now, with all THREE of 'em in the shot as the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL throws back his drink.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Brought it along with me.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Best enjoy it, too.
PANEL 4. On the floor, by the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL'S FEET (which don't touch the floor) are a pile of empty bottles of Canadian whiskey.
OP HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: 'Cause that's the last of it.
PANEL 5. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL points at his glass, speaking to HÉLÈNE. The CAPTAIN watches them both.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Encore.
CAPTAIN: What should we drink to?
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: …
PANEL 1. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL clinks his glass to the CAPTAIN'S.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Surviving.
PANEL 2. They drink.
PANEL 3. The CAPTAIN looks to the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL while HAIRY taps his glass.
CAPTAIN: You think that's enough?
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Doubtful. Can't remember ever having "enough".
CAPTAIN: No, I mean surviving. You think it's enough to just survive?
PANEL 4. Close-up on the HAIRY INDIVDIUAL as he gives the OP CAPTAIN an 'are you shitting me?' expression. On the edge of the frame, HÉLÈNE'S hand refills their glasses.
PANEL 1. HAIRY drinks his drink.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Far as I figure, neither one of us is gonna have a problem comin' out o' this one.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Now drink.
PANEL 2. The CAPTAIN holds his glass, trying to be patient with the HAIRY GUY.
CAPTAIN: I don't get drunk so easy.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: I know. S'why you've got catching up to do.
PANEL 3. Eyeing his comrade, the Captain drains his glass.
PANEL 4. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL wipes his mouth, holding his cigar with his other hand.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: S'not about gettin' drunk, Cap. Well. Not just about that.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: I'm not one for drinkin' alone, if I can help it.
PANEL 5. We're behind them, with plenty of PASSED OUT TROOPS on the floor.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: And your boys weren't up to the task.
PANEL 1. The CAPTAIN eyes HAIRY again. HÉLÈNE stands behind the bar, admiring CAP's form.
CAPTAIN: You drank six grown men under the table, and you're still upright.
HAIRY: Naw. Just the first five.
PANEL 2. Close-up on one of the soldiers, who now sports a nasty black eye, and a bruised jaw.
OP HAIRY: Number six tried to get fresh with Hélène, here.
PANEL 3. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL continues drinking. CAPTAIN looks at HÉLÈNE, who beams at him warmly.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Lucky a beatdown's all I gave 'im. After the week we've had… he earned a bit o' mercy.
PANEL 4. The HAIRY INDIVDUAL puts down his drink, but doesn't take his eyes off it. The CAPTAIN is smiling awkwardly at HÉLÈNE, who hugs herself.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: 'm not usually one for talkin' much. But you're the only man in forty clicks who'd know what this feels like.
CAPTAIN: What do you mean?
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Meanin' we weren't 'xactly drafted.
PANEL 1. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL sizes up the CAPTAIN, while HÉLÈNE refreshes their drinks.
HAIRY: You been at this long?
CAPTAIN: Not long, no. Just doing my part. I was handed an opportunity. I want to make the most of it.
HAIRY: Uh huh.
PANEL 2. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL has a thousand-yard stare. He looks tired.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: Feels like… ages to me. Could use a rest.
PANEL 3. The CAPTAIN slaps the HAIRY INDIVIDUAL on the back, harder than he intended to. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL'S eyes bug out.
CAPTAIN: Soldier, after seeing you do what you do… I'd say you've earned it.
PANEL 1. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL stumbles off his stool, leaving his last drink untouched. The CAPTAIN'S jaw drops at such harsh language. HÉLÈNE'S mouth forms an O as she tries to cover her mouth.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: $&!^#%!*&#%!
PANEL 2. The HAIRY INDIVIDUAL wades through the PASSED OUT TROOPS, on his way to the OP door. The CAPTAIN and HÉLÈNE watch him go.
HAIRY INDIVIDUAL: That's it. M'done. Last time I try ta $#*!&$% open up to a $@&!^ing American…
PANEL 3. HAIRY is gone. CAPTAIN and HÉLÈNE are still in shock.
Panel 4. Exactly the same, except now they look at each other.
PANEL 1. Splash panel, not unlike the first page. Only now, the CAPTAIN sits before the bar, while HÉLÈNE beams at him. The pile of PASSED OUT TROOPS has not budged an inch.
CAPTAIN: I don't suppose you'd let me help you clean this up, would you?
CAPTAIN: I should really walk you home, though, after. It's not safe out ther—