The sun was low, but the surrounding air was still comfortably warm. The sand underneath his boots seemed cool rather than the unbearable heat it most assuredly was earlier that day. He eyed the simple setting sun for just a moment more before convincing himself to step inside The Hard Deck. He attempted to look nonchalant as he eyed the rowdy people nearly filling the room to a brim, moving to stand near the edge of the bar. There were a group in their uniforms by the pool tables, so he decided to try there.

A hand fastened at his shoulder before he could take a step forward, tugging him lightly backward.

"Hey, Scott." Maverick murmured in greeting, inviting smile on his face.

"Dad," Scott's eyes widened, heart swelling two times too big for his chest. He fastened his arms around the other's torso, reining him in for a hug. He pulled away after a moment, keeping him at arm's length.
"Thought you were on that project?" He eyed him, unconsciously tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah," His father's mouth turned into somewhat of a grimace. "It's a long story."

"Alright," Scott raised his brows, eyes narrowing. He decided to drop it, looking to the empty seat beside the other man.

"You see enough of me." Maverick pointed out quickly, almost a reprimand, to which the youngest immediately rolled his eyes at. "We'll talk later."

"Fine." He muttered, turning to look at the group he was eyeing earlier. There were no familiar faces which made him nearly blanch. He sighed before immediately setting his shoulders, taking confident steps toward them.

"—rack 'em." He watched a stranger voice, handing her cue to a glasses clad man who moved to stand. She looked up to stare at the newcomer along with the others.

"Hopefully your call sign is a breath of fresh air after his." She nodded toward the man with glasses, an overwhelmed sigh escaping her mouth.

"Mouse," Scott said, reluctantly moving to lean against the pool table.

"And I can see why." A man spoke up, cocky smirk on his lips. Scott didn't deign to give him a reaction, he was used to the banter. He wasn't very small, standing in at an average 5'8. Unfortunately the rest of his class were well beyond that height, coining the name.

"Nice to meet you, Mouse. I think I'm your new pilot." A man moved to greet him, sticking out a friendly hand, which Scott immediately took.

"You're Payback?" He asked immediately, shifting lightly on his feet.

"One and only." Payback smiled.

"When's the wedding?" The very same stranger inquired, leaning over the table to line up his shot. His eyes darted toward the group just for a second before returning to his cue, probably searching for a reaction.

"You're not invited." Payback shot at him from over his shoulder before turning back toward Scott. "That's Hangman. I don't think you need me to tell you he's an asshole."

"Yeah," Scott eyed his aggressor as the other man pocketed his eight, looking up to converse with a friend who Scott later learned was Coyote. He watched as Hangman moved toward the jukebox, letting out breath through his nose before turning back to Payback who offered up his new beer. They didn't talk for long before a familiar man in civilian attire made it to the group, somewhat warmly welcomed by Phoenix jabbing him in the gut with the end of her cue.

Rooster locked eyes with Scott, only reaction being his eyes as they widened minutely. He gave a curt nod to the other which Scott immediately returned. It could have gone worse, he decided.

"Bradshaw," Hangman returned from his trip to the jukebox, eyeing down Rooster as he stole Bob's cue. "As I live and breath." He remarked with confidence.

"Hangman," Rooster greeted with familiarity. Scott didn't envy him. "You look," He paused, tilting his head just slightly to the side. "Good."

"Well, I am good Rooster." The end of Hangman moved to line up what was previously Bob's shot, pocketing the desired ball. "I'm very good." His mouth upturned into a smirk, one that Scott found infuriating to look at. "In fact," He straightened his back while Rooster shook his head. "I am too good to be true."

"So..." Payback attempted to return the atmosphere around the group to a more friendly one. "Anybody know what this special detachment is all about?" His eyes darted around, looking for someone to speak up. Unfortunately, Hangman was the first to reply.

"Well, a mission's a mission. They don't confront me." Hangman said in nonchalance, lining up his cue again. "What I want to know is who's gonna be team leader?" He took his shot, looking up to watch those around him. "And which one of y'all has what it takes." He paused. "To follow me."

Rooster's eyes narrowed as he looked down for a moment. Scott wasn't sure where it was going but he didn't want to witness it sober. He took a sip of beer, brows knitting together.
"Hangman," Rooster looked back up to eye the other man. "The only place you'll lead anyone is to an early grave." He raised his eyebrows, a feigned smile of politeness on his face.

Scott reeled slightly, sputtering. He cradled his drink to his chest, covering up his bark of laughter with a few coughs. Hangman glared in his direction before deciding to do something. He moved to walk around the table, giving Phoenix a look before stopping in front of Rooster.

"Hell, anyone who follows you is just gonna..." Hangman began in a murmur, eyeing up Rooster, using his cue as a crutch. "Run out of fuel." He moved to lean his backside against the pool table behind him as he caught Rooster's eyes. "Well that's just you, ain't it, Rooster? You're just snug on that perch." He straightened, leaning closer. His face less than a foot from Rooster's. "Waiting for just the right moment, that never comes." His smirk returned, and somehow looked even more cockier than before.

"Alright," Scott decided to say from where he stood. His voice was attempting to placate him, but it did quite the opposite. "Let's bring it down."

"Don't worry about it." Hangman said, turning his head to the side to look at Scott with his still ever present smirk. "Worry about this pool cue and whether it's taller than you." Scott reeled slightly at that, deciding against saying something more. Hangman turned back to Rooster, letting his confident smile do all of the talking.
"I love this song." He decidedly said, before leaving to head toward the bar.

"Well, he hasn't changed." Phoenix murmured as she moved to stand beside Rooster.

"Nope." Rooster said in return. "Sure hasn't." He watched the man leave, before turning to look at Scott.

"Haven't seen you in a few years." He nodded toward him, eyes hardening. "Wonder why." He moved to leave, making his way through the crowd. Scott sighed before immediately jogging after him, trying to keep up.

"You know that's not fair." He bit out from behind him, voice an angry whisper.

"Isn't it?" Rooster turned to look at him as he squatted down beside the jukebox, reaching for the plug.

"No. It isn't." Scott glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I had all hell to do with what he did."

"And somehow," Rooster pulled the cord from the outlet as groans and complaints instantly voiced around them. He moved to stand, nearly chest to chest with Scott. "I don't believe you." He muttered, before moving toward the piano. Scott watched him go, fists balled at his side, before he decided to leave. He was sure no one would notice him missing as he shoved the doors open, relaxing somewhat at the salt water taste in the air.

Maverick was surprisingly just a few feet away, eyeing something through the windows. He moved to stand beside him, eyes falling on the man playing the piano surrounded by people he hadn't previously known. He glared at his new acquaintances, jealousy running its course through him. He had no choice but to let it dissipate before he looked at the side of his father's face. It was lax, but his eyes held indecipherable emotions. Scott followed his gaze, eyes landing back on Rooster as he happily sang along to the tune of the piano, fingers surely hitting every key.

"He's—" Scott began in a murmur. "He's a lot like him, isn't he?" He asked finally, eyes darting to look at the other.

"Yeah," Maverick's voice was thick before cleared his throat, shifting his feet quietly in the sand. "Yeah, he is."

Scott nodded his head, even though his dad hadn't looked away from Rooster once.

"You guys aren't as close as what you used to be and," Maverick started. "And I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay, Dad." Scott was quick to assure him with a soft voice. He could tell Maverick didn't forgive himself for the wedge he put between the two, and he may never will. He raised a hand to place it on the other's arm before deciding against it, letting it drop to hang limply at his side.

"Okay." His father said simply, just above a whisper.