The Laughing Gnome

Plisken sat in one of the plush leather chairs in the Officer's Club, his feet propped upon a coffee table. In his hand was a glass tumbler with the finest whiskey the ship had to offer. He raised the glass to his nose and let the sent drift into his nose - the earthy aroma was more pleasent than most whiskies on the Dwarf. Plisken lowered the teh glass to his lips and took a small sip, savouring the flavour. The wood taste played upon his tounge and the burnt flavour was delicous. When he swallowed the burning sensation down his throat slightly stung but was suprisingly delightful. He reached over and picked up the bottle from which the pleasent drink had come from. His metal hand made a little *clink* as his grasped the neck of the bottle. He studdied the black label and smiled at the name: Jack Daniels. He lowered the bottle and glanced over at his friend, Alex, who tipped a glass decanter of the finest port down into his mouth, the liquid spilling over his mouth and onto the expensive red smoking jacket that the two men had found with the case of cigars. Plisken smiled as he remember what it was like to be Alex's age, to be able to not have a care in the world. But something bothered him, what Alex had said about Brittany. She did always seem to have a certain... affixation, of doing the things personally or being their to seem them done.

"Hey, Pissssssken," slurred Alex as he stumbled over the coffee table and collapsed into the chair next to the old man, "Yourrr not ssstill thinking about Brittany, are you?"

Plisken smiled, if Brittany tended to appear here then perhaps it would be easier to simply wait.

"Why is everbody else minning and your not?" said Plisken, changing the subject. Perhaps he could get more information from Alex when he was sober, or as close as he could come to sober.

"I toldsh you! They're flishing!"

"Well quite," said Pliske simply, slightly fustrated that in his drunked state Alex would not be able to grasp anything.

Plisken picked up a cigar from the small wooden box that Alex had narrowly missed kicking to the other side of the room in his dunken state. With a small flick, a flame errupted from the lighter that was held in his hand. He lit Alex's cigar also and the two friends enjoyed the strong taste of the fine cigars. Plisken hadn't smoked a cigar in, well, since the time he had been stuck in the depths of the ship in the Temporal Displacement Field.

"See the little Goblin, see his little feet," sang Alex as he swayed drunkenly, "and his little nosey wosey isn't the Goblin sweet!"

Plisken laughed as he remember the song now, the Laughing Gnome it was called. Plisken joined in with Alex, singing the old drinking song (or Drunken Song was more apt.), forgetting his worries and troubles if only until they were found and put to work minning with the rest of the crew.