"You never can tell with you kids these days," Bass said, knowing it was a ridiculous statement, both because the age difference wasn't really that much, for adults, and because, if it were, the tech limitations would go the other way.
On the other hand, Miles was also, technically, a Millenial, and he still had a flip phone.
He ordered a beer from the bartender, as well, leaning his side up against the bar, so he could face Alex.
"And that's an impressive skillset you're learning there. Of course, I'm a Marine. They teach us to navigate the old-fashioned way solely because of people learning to do things like that."
He accepted the beer with a smile for the bartender, then focused back on Alex. "Remind me where you're from?"
"Clearly you've never driven around in the middle of the desert. You're lucky if GPS knows about the main roads let alone the fact that half the roads outside of town are dirt. You look at your map there and it's like you're driving in the middle of nothing." Plus there was everything that his father had put him through, but the less said about the head Manes man of the family, the better.
"Roswell." He switched the beer to his left hand and offered his right with the fingers split like the Vulcan greeting from Star Trek, only like a handshake. "I'd say 'nanoo, nanoo', but Mork and Mindy is probably too young of a show for you, Gramps." Also a ridiculous statement because it would have been shown before either of them were both.
Clearly they were both still in the same good form that they'd been in for their texts.
"Driving is not my MOS," Bass agreed. "We got the Army boys for that. And they probably use GPS." They were Army, after all. "But I've done two tours in Iraq, so. I do have some experience in the desert."
Which was...not what he wanted to talk about, because it was not in any way, shpae or form, a collection of good memories. For a few seconds, shadows darkened his eyes, and he had to take a moment, visibly push them away, take a drink of his beer and focus on the fact that he was here, in Hawaii, with a hot airman making jokes about aliens and Bass's advanced age of 30.
He laughed, and it was only a little hollow, and met the extended hand with his own and a teasing brush of fingers through and over each other. "My mom loved that show." He let the comment about his age go without retaliation for now--probably more a sign of the shaking off of memories than anything else. "I've driven through Roswell, once, on our way from Vegas to Texas. Went to the museum, had a milkshake at the diner, then were on our way. Small town, but still about three times as big as where we grew up."
He forgets sometimes that not everyone knows who he means by "we."
"I'm not talking about Iraq, I'm talking about my home town." Alex frowned for a minute because he wouldn't. This wasn't a date, exactly, but unless you were discussing actual war stories with a buddy, there were some things you just didn't do. But then Bass' fingers brushed his and the frown was replaced by a small grin.
"So you met my friend Liz's dad, then. And the only reason the town is that big is because it's Roswell. At least half the population are the local and not-so-local UFO freaks."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Really? I kind of got an only-child vibe from you." Being the youngest of his brothers, he definitely knew the difference.
"I figured, but that's my only real desert experience. I mean, it's pretty desolate, but you can't say that the way to Vegas isn't very well marked," Bass said with a careless smile. "UFO freaks have got to be more interesting than the descendents of Scots and German farmers who are still farming the same land their ancestors did. Our only claim to fame is that Lincoln spent his childhood fifteen miles south of town."
Bass's smile faltered again, but then steadied, as he shook his head. "No, I had two sisters." Past tense, there. "But I meant me and Miles. Uh - Staff Sergeant Miles Matheson, if you've met him. My roommate and best friend. We grew up together, enlisted together. Most people sort of just lump us into Matheson-and-Monroe. The Corps figured out it was best to keep us together--more effective that way."
Alex nodded like he knew about that kind of relationship. The first guy he'd been close to dropped him as soon as the word 'sex' stopped being a nose-wrinkling word and as soon as it became clear that Alex Manes had deviated from the usual 'Manes man' ideal. The other... The other was complicated and why Alex often felt as if he'd left a piece of him behind in a place he'd always wanted to leave.
"Believe it or not, I never made it to Vegas. Sometimes it seems like I had my high school prom and then I was here."
He looked at the door and to the city outside. "Although, I've got to admit. Here is pretty nice." It wouldn't stay that way he knew, but seize the day and all that, right?
Bass was afraid of Miles dropping him when he came out, but. Miles had been punching bullies who made Bass cry since first grade--until Bass learned to fight back and then became the town darling with his baseball skills. When Bass confessed he thought he liked guys as much as girls, Miles shrugged and said, "Yeah, your tongue down Billy Anderson's throat behind the bleachers kinda gave that one away. You can do better." Hell, Miles hadn't even been properly pissed when Bass knocked up his fiancee. Everyone knew they came as a package deal--you couldn't love one without loving the other, though possibly he and Emma had taken that farther than intended.
He chuckled a bit. "You should go, sometime. Everyone should go, at least once. Though here is definitely better than most other places." Better than home, where Bass never went anymore--Emma brought or sent Connor to him. "Do you surf?"
"I skateboard, so I guess I understand some of the concept?" Except it was probably one thing to have steady ground under your feet and another to have the wildness of the water. He contemplated his beer and took another sip. "I used to skateboard, I guess." There were a lot of things he'd given up doing. Like he carried a guitar around with him, but he hadn't played since leaving Roswell. Every time he tried, he felt pain in his hand that didn't exist.
"For a lot of people, finding their balance is the hardest part--but skate or snowboarding has similar center-of-balance, so it just becomes timing and getting up. Getting up's not that hard to learn, so, really, it's just learning the timing." Bass shrugged, took another pull of his beer.
"I'm just trying to get to know you," he said after a moment, with another smile. "But I'd be happy to show you what we've learned. Can't say I'm an expert, but I manage to catch most of the waves I try for now, at least."
He leaned in just a bit, as someone pushed to the bar behind him. "So--you're in Hawaii. You don't surf. What do you like to do for fun?"
Alex's eyes dropped down to Bass' mouth which pretty much summed up what he'd been doing with his free time. Not that he had sex all that often, but mostly because he made sure he didn't have free time. Free time would lead to thinking would lead to regrets and he had too many of those.
"Haven't really done anything, yet," he admitted, lifting his eyes again without embarrassment. It wasn't like Bass didn't already know he was interested in at least an abstract way.
"Mostly just computers. I can be a bit of a nerd. With the exception of meeting mostly-strange old men in bars." His grin was cheeky.
Bass certainly wasn't complaining about the attention--his lips curved into a bit of a smirk, followed by a chuckle.
"And now I know at least one way you can benefit from my experience--you've gotta get out more, kid. You're living in paradise, on Uncle Sam's dime. He's gonna expect payback, so you might as well squeeze all the joy out of it that you can, so you've got memories of things to make you smile when you feel like there's nothing good left in this world." His tone stayed light, but there was real advice there, and the flicker of those shadows there and gone. He knew about having to find a way to survive--sometimes all you had was a promise you'd made to someone, but if you could remember what it felt like to smile, sometimes that was enough hope to help you claw your way back from the edge.
"Also, clearly, I need to find a way to move out of the 'mostly strange' category..."
Alex moved in a little closer, too, and he didn't have the excuse that he was being shoved into it. "Best I think you can do is move out of old man category. Not fifteen minutes and I think you're stuck in the mostly strange box."
He smiled suddenly, a real one that was wider than the smirks and quick grinds he'd been giving up to now. "Good thing I like strange. I did grow up in a town where my first job was at the alien theater-slash-museum." Better to stay on that part of the conversation than to explain that he'd grown up in a war zone and that he'd had joy for a little while. Joy he'd sabotaged for Michael's own good. He hoped.
"But out of curiosity, what did you think you'd be able to do to move out if it?"
Bass ducked his head, laughing a little. "I think I might need to know what I did to move into it, first?" Though, yes, he'd admit it was good, if he was stuck there, that Alex liked strange.
He let the other part of the conversation go; it wasn't exactly the type of conversation he wanted to have when he was just getting to know someone. Later, maybe, once they'd gotten to know each other better.
He tilted his head in some. "To be fair, I'm still trying to figure out how to convince you I'm not an old man."
Alex paused as the beer was heading to his lips. "I'm sure you'll figure out some way," he said, the grin returning. "You might even enjoy the challenge." He took the sip he'd been waiting on and then considered Bass.
"You were wondering what I did for fun and I'm a bit boring. What about you? Surfing doesn't count. You already mentioned that." Who knows. Maybe he'd give Alex a few ideas. To be fair, surfing did kind of sound fun. And it had been long enough that he should probably think about having fun again. He wasn't doing anyone any good by moping.
Although to be fair, his current 'for fun' entertainment was pretty good. Flirting with Bass should qualify as having fun.
"I'll make it a priority for the evening." Bass watched Alex's beer, letting his gaze settle on his lips, on the way he took the sip, the moisture there afterward.
He smiled, focused on the question. "Beyond surfing? Hmmm...I box. Train or spar several times a week. If I'm somewhere there's a league set up on base, I usually play baseball or softball in the spring. I played in high school, had a scholarship, but then 9/11 happened, and I followed Miles into the Marines instead. But I still love to play." He traced a finger around the top of his beer bottle. "Music. I play piano well and guitar adequately. Miles plays guitar. We tried to have a band in high school, but drummers were in short supply in a town of 15000 people. But, we mess around with them when we find others who want to play. And I read a lot. History, military history in particular, mostly the Civil War."
He flashed Alex a grin. "And, this, of course. Spending time out on the town with pleasant company."
"I used to be in the high school band. One of my older brothers used to play the guitar and he left his when he left home. I guess we both stopped playing when we joined up." Because of course his brothers had. They were the ones that his dad had wanted and it was Alex that was the freak. And yet here he was. "I guess that's why I like computers. They've always just been...mine, you know?"
And he found such interesting ways to use them. If his father knew half of what Alex was getting up to, he'd probably have an aneurysm. Sure, his learning was thanks to the U.S. Government, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't approve of some of the ways he was using what they were teaching him. He was also smart enough to know what not to attempt. Yet.
He pointed at Bass. "So you know? Old man alert. Who says 'pleasant company' anymore?"
"Uh, people from midwestern farming towns do. So, that's more a culture thing than age," Bass protested with a laugh.
He nodded, though, at the comment about computers, about the needing something that was just yours, even though he didn't really understand that anymore than Alex did having a friendship like his and Miles. He'd never really had anything that was just his, because he'd always had things that were theirs, his and Miles. Maybe their relationship was his thing, but that was still theirs.
He tilted his head, giving Alex a curious look. "Why'd you stop playing? And what do you like doing most on computers?"
Alex rubbed at his left hand. "Bad memories. And good or...maybe bittersweet ones. Also known as my father is a homophobic asshole." There was one thing he was taking from his time in the air force. The next time he was in a confrontation with his father, he wouldn't just stand back, hands clapped to his mouth in horror."
He went to pull another sip of beer but realized he'd finished and put the bottle on the bar. "I guess what I like is the control. If something I do ends up not working, it's on me, not because of someone else. And the problems I do find are ones I can fix. I didn't have a lot of those growing up."
"Ah. I know about those." Bass made a face. "Not my own--I was lucky. But Miles' dad...Retired Marine, son of a Marine, god knows how far back. Not big on the positive affirmation. Fond of using his fists to make his point. And 100% convinced until the day he died that I was a corrupting influence who was gonna turn Miles gay and get him dishonorably discharged."
But from the look in Alex's eyes, Bass suspected his story was worse. Miles had, after all, been straight. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
He gestured for the bartender to bring another round, nodded a little. "That makes sense." Control wasn't something Bass had a lot of, but that was more an internal thing than external. When it came to childhood, he'd had a good one. But from the internal chaos, he knew what it was like to want to feel in control of something. "I sometimes get that feeling being out on the waves. You got to respect the ocean, but how you handle yourself out there is just on you, on your skill and patience."
Alex snorted. "What's his name? Sounds like he could be related to my father. Or maybe there's just a mold certain types of men fit into." He'd run into those in the air force, too. But he'd also found men like Bass, all the teasing and flirting between them aside, who made up for all of the bigots.
His eyes lit up when Bass talked about the ocean and he flicked a quick smile at the bartender before turning his attention back to Bass and taking a sip of his second beer.
"Really? Hot, wet men and that kind of a feeling? I think you might be creating a convert." The hot, wet men when he was in a certain mood and the rugged peace of the waves for the rest of the days.
"Matheson," Bass said, and it was weird, always, to say that with any distaste, because, as a whole, he was very fond of Mathesons. Miles. Charlie. Ben. Even Rachel, now that Miles had ended that, which Bass very much approved of. "But, yeah. I think there are still a lot of men out there like that. Sadly, lots of 'em in the Marines, though it's gotten better. Realizing how many of us had distinguished ourselves in the military without them knowing we were there, retired Admirals and Generals coming out...it's making their whole narrative look laughable."
There was vindication there, much as there'd been when he'd hit the homerun that won the state championship his sophomore year.
He grinned at Alex, and the way he lit up. "I promise you--there's nothing like it. It's one of the only places I always feel at peace. Quiet - like Sister Mary always told me I should feel during Mass, but I never quite managed it."
Alex's eyes dropped down to Bass's mouth. Distracting, that's what he'd call it. But this was a... Wait, had this actually turned into a date without him realizing it? He'd just planned on flirting with the guy a little ... and getting to know him ... and, yeah. Maybe that was a date. It'd just been so long since he'd been on one that he couldn't recognize it.
"Glory to thee, oh wave on high?" he suggested, toying with his bottle but not actually drinking from it.
He had no idea what any of the words were. It wasn't like he'd ever been to Sunday School or Catechism or whatever any religion called their services for children. The one thing he could credit his father with was that he'd never brought God into the equation when it came to their household.
Bass laughed and flashed that smile of his again. "Exactly. If we'd lived near the ocean, and I'd have discovered the waves, then...well. There'd have been even more praying for my soul than I'm sure there already was."
Not from his parents, at least, but he'd given the nuns at their Catholic elementary school palpitations, probably, the poor things. They'd meant well.
He took a sip of his own beer, eyes sweeping over Alex appreciatively. "So, with you growing up in Roswell and working in the museum, I gotta ask - do you think it's all a hoax, or did something inexplicable crash there in 1947? I mean, all the deaths of the people connected to the initial investigation seem suspicious, don't they?"
"I think," Alex said slowly, curious about how exactly Bass knew so much about it, "that there are too many crackpot theories out there to separate fact from fiction. Especially in Roswell. Do I believe the government that it was a nuclear test surveillance balloon? I suppose I can always check the records and find out. Thoroughly debunk or confirm it one way or the other.
"And if I ever decide to go back to Roswell for more than just leave, I might do that just to see the look on everybody's faces. But I guess what it comes down to is that when people are telling you every day that aliens abducted Elvis or that they're planning an invasion that never seems to happen, it gets hard to believe that kind of thing."
Alex took a sip and considered it. "You get one of two people in Roswell. The fanatics who'll believe almost everything and the people who live there and laugh about it."
Bass was just curious about things and liked to read--and that included in museums. He'd driven Miles a bit crazy, reading most of the exhibits at the museum in Roswell. He considered Alex's comments, and nodded.
"That makes sense. I just figure--universe is a big place. It seems more likely than not that we are not the only intelligent life in it. What seems less likely is that any of them would have any desire to come here. I mean, we've got great beaches, but other planets must, too."
He shrugged, a little sheepish. "But of all the crackpot theories out there--that something happened in Roswell seems believable, just because of the level of weirdness around it. You should totally dig into the files and see what you can find with those computer skills of yours." He considered, then grinned. "And then laugh about it, probably."
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2019-03-16 10:18 pm (UTC)On the other hand, Miles was also, technically, a Millenial, and he still had a flip phone.
He ordered a beer from the bartender, as well, leaning his side up against the bar, so he could face Alex.
"And that's an impressive skillset you're learning there. Of course, I'm a Marine. They teach us to navigate the old-fashioned way solely because of people learning to do things like that."
He accepted the beer with a smile for the bartender, then focused back on Alex. "Remind me where you're from?"
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Date: 2019-03-17 12:37 am (UTC)"Roswell." He switched the beer to his left hand and offered his right with the fingers split like the Vulcan greeting from Star Trek, only like a handshake. "I'd say 'nanoo, nanoo', but Mork and Mindy is probably too young of a show for you, Gramps." Also a ridiculous statement because it would have been shown before either of them were both.
Clearly they were both still in the same good form that they'd been in for their texts.
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Date: 2019-03-17 01:24 am (UTC)Which was...not what he wanted to talk about, because it was not in any way, shpae or form, a collection of good memories. For a few seconds, shadows darkened his eyes, and he had to take a moment, visibly push them away, take a drink of his beer and focus on the fact that he was here, in Hawaii, with a hot airman making jokes about aliens and Bass's advanced age of 30.
He laughed, and it was only a little hollow, and met the extended hand with his own and a teasing brush of fingers through and over each other. "My mom loved that show." He let the comment about his age go without retaliation for now--probably more a sign of the shaking off of memories than anything else. "I've driven through Roswell, once, on our way from Vegas to Texas. Went to the museum, had a milkshake at the diner, then were on our way. Small town, but still about three times as big as where we grew up."
He forgets sometimes that not everyone knows who he means by "we."
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Date: 2019-03-17 03:27 am (UTC)"So you met my friend Liz's dad, then. And the only reason the town is that big is because it's Roswell. At least half the population are the local and not-so-local UFO freaks."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Really? I kind of got an only-child vibe from you." Being the youngest of his brothers, he definitely knew the difference.
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Date: 2019-03-17 03:47 am (UTC)Bass's smile faltered again, but then steadied, as he shook his head. "No, I had two sisters." Past tense, there. "But I meant me and Miles. Uh - Staff Sergeant Miles Matheson, if you've met him. My roommate and best friend. We grew up together, enlisted together. Most people sort of just lump us into Matheson-and-Monroe. The Corps figured out it was best to keep us together--more effective that way."
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Date: 2019-03-17 04:42 am (UTC)"Believe it or not, I never made it to Vegas. Sometimes it seems like I had my high school prom and then I was here."
He looked at the door and to the city outside. "Although, I've got to admit. Here is pretty nice." It wouldn't stay that way he knew, but seize the day and all that, right?
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Date: 2019-03-17 05:43 pm (UTC)He chuckled a bit. "You should go, sometime. Everyone should go, at least once. Though here is definitely better than most other places." Better than home, where Bass never went anymore--Emma brought or sent Connor to him. "Do you surf?"
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Date: 2019-03-17 07:52 pm (UTC)Nostalgia was a bitch sometimes.
"Why, you offering to tutor me?"
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Date: 2019-03-18 01:05 am (UTC)"I'm just trying to get to know you," he said after a moment, with another smile. "But I'd be happy to show you what we've learned. Can't say I'm an expert, but I manage to catch most of the waves I try for now, at least."
He leaned in just a bit, as someone pushed to the bar behind him. "So--you're in Hawaii. You don't surf. What do you like to do for fun?"
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Date: 2019-03-18 02:34 am (UTC)"Haven't really done anything, yet," he admitted, lifting his eyes again without embarrassment. It wasn't like Bass didn't already know he was interested in at least an abstract way.
"Mostly just computers. I can be a bit of a nerd. With the exception of meeting mostly-strange old men in bars." His grin was cheeky.
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Date: 2019-03-18 03:56 am (UTC)"And now I know at least one way you can benefit from my experience--you've gotta get out more, kid. You're living in paradise, on Uncle Sam's dime. He's gonna expect payback, so you might as well squeeze all the joy out of it that you can, so you've got memories of things to make you smile when you feel like there's nothing good left in this world." His tone stayed light, but there was real advice there, and the flicker of those shadows there and gone. He knew about having to find a way to survive--sometimes all you had was a promise you'd made to someone, but if you could remember what it felt like to smile, sometimes that was enough hope to help you claw your way back from the edge.
"Also, clearly, I need to find a way to move out of the 'mostly strange' category..."
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Date: 2019-03-18 04:25 am (UTC)He smiled suddenly, a real one that was wider than the smirks and quick grinds he'd been giving up to now. "Good thing I like strange. I did grow up in a town where my first job was at the alien theater-slash-museum." Better to stay on that part of the conversation than to explain that he'd grown up in a war zone and that he'd had joy for a little while. Joy he'd sabotaged for Michael's own good. He hoped.
"But out of curiosity, what did you think you'd be able to do to move out if it?"
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Date: 2019-03-18 11:38 pm (UTC)He let the other part of the conversation go; it wasn't exactly the type of conversation he wanted to have when he was just getting to know someone. Later, maybe, once they'd gotten to know each other better.
He tilted his head in some. "To be fair, I'm still trying to figure out how to convince you I'm not an old man."
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Date: 2019-03-19 01:29 am (UTC)"You were wondering what I did for fun and I'm a bit boring. What about you? Surfing doesn't count. You already mentioned that." Who knows. Maybe he'd give Alex a few ideas. To be fair, surfing did kind of sound fun. And it had been long enough that he should probably think about having fun again. He wasn't doing anyone any good by moping.
Although to be fair, his current 'for fun' entertainment was pretty good. Flirting with Bass should qualify as having fun.
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Date: 2019-03-19 03:50 am (UTC)He smiled, focused on the question. "Beyond surfing? Hmmm...I box. Train or spar several times a week. If I'm somewhere there's a league set up on base, I usually play baseball or softball in the spring. I played in high school, had a scholarship, but then 9/11 happened, and I followed Miles into the Marines instead. But I still love to play." He traced a finger around the top of his beer bottle. "Music. I play piano well and guitar adequately. Miles plays guitar. We tried to have a band in high school, but drummers were in short supply in a town of 15000 people. But, we mess around with them when we find others who want to play. And I read a lot. History, military history in particular, mostly the Civil War."
He flashed Alex a grin. "And, this, of course. Spending time out on the town with pleasant company."
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Date: 2019-03-19 11:42 pm (UTC)And he found such interesting ways to use them. If his father knew half of what Alex was getting up to, he'd probably have an aneurysm. Sure, his learning was thanks to the U.S. Government, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't approve of some of the ways he was using what they were teaching him. He was also smart enough to know what not to attempt. Yet.
He pointed at Bass. "So you know? Old man alert. Who says 'pleasant company' anymore?"
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Date: 2019-03-20 06:31 pm (UTC)He nodded, though, at the comment about computers, about the needing something that was just yours, even though he didn't really understand that anymore than Alex did having a friendship like his and Miles. He'd never really had anything that was just his, because he'd always had things that were theirs, his and Miles. Maybe their relationship was his thing, but that was still theirs.
He tilted his head, giving Alex a curious look. "Why'd you stop playing? And what do you like doing most on computers?"
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Date: 2019-03-20 07:44 pm (UTC)He went to pull another sip of beer but realized he'd finished and put the bottle on the bar. "I guess what I like is the control. If something I do ends up not working, it's on me, not because of someone else. And the problems I do find are ones I can fix. I didn't have a lot of those growing up."
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Date: 2019-03-21 03:03 am (UTC)But from the look in Alex's eyes, Bass suspected his story was worse. Miles had, after all, been straight. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
He gestured for the bartender to bring another round, nodded a little. "That makes sense." Control wasn't something Bass had a lot of, but that was more an internal thing than external. When it came to childhood, he'd had a good one. But from the internal chaos, he knew what it was like to want to feel in control of something. "I sometimes get that feeling being out on the waves. You got to respect the ocean, but how you handle yourself out there is just on you, on your skill and patience."
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Date: 2019-03-21 05:41 am (UTC)His eyes lit up when Bass talked about the ocean and he flicked a quick smile at the bartender before turning his attention back to Bass and taking a sip of his second beer.
"Really? Hot, wet men and that kind of a feeling? I think you might be creating a convert." The hot, wet men when he was in a certain mood and the rugged peace of the waves for the rest of the days.
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Date: 2019-03-22 10:41 pm (UTC)There was vindication there, much as there'd been when he'd hit the homerun that won the state championship his sophomore year.
He grinned at Alex, and the way he lit up. "I promise you--there's nothing like it. It's one of the only places I always feel at peace. Quiet - like Sister Mary always told me I should feel during Mass, but I never quite managed it."
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Date: 2019-03-23 03:36 am (UTC)"Glory to thee, oh wave on high?" he suggested, toying with his bottle but not actually drinking from it.
He had no idea what any of the words were. It wasn't like he'd ever been to Sunday School or Catechism or whatever any religion called their services for children. The one thing he could credit his father with was that he'd never brought God into the equation when it came to their household.
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Date: 2019-03-23 05:55 am (UTC)Not from his parents, at least, but he'd given the nuns at their Catholic elementary school palpitations, probably, the poor things. They'd meant well.
He took a sip of his own beer, eyes sweeping over Alex appreciatively. "So, with you growing up in Roswell and working in the museum, I gotta ask - do you think it's all a hoax, or did something inexplicable crash there in 1947? I mean, all the deaths of the people connected to the initial investigation seem suspicious, don't they?"
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Date: 2019-03-23 08:46 am (UTC)"And if I ever decide to go back to Roswell for more than just leave, I might do that just to see the look on everybody's faces. But I guess what it comes down to is that when people are telling you every day that aliens abducted Elvis or that they're planning an invasion that never seems to happen, it gets hard to believe that kind of thing."
Alex took a sip and considered it. "You get one of two people in Roswell. The fanatics who'll believe almost everything and the people who live there and laugh about it."
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Date: 2019-03-24 02:43 am (UTC)"That makes sense. I just figure--universe is a big place. It seems more likely than not that we are not the only intelligent life in it. What seems less likely is that any of them would have any desire to come here. I mean, we've got great beaches, but other planets must, too."
He shrugged, a little sheepish. "But of all the crackpot theories out there--that something happened in Roswell seems believable, just because of the level of weirdness around it. You should totally dig into the files and see what you can find with those computer skills of yours." He considered, then grinned. "And then laugh about it, probably."
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