The first couple of times, admittedly, the reminder had been more than a little grating. For all that Chuck is beyond relieved to know that the plan worked, that they managed to stop the kaiju and close the Breach, he's had too much time in his own head since he showed up here, thoughts of what he did in the name of saving the world always present. Of course, before tonight, all he'd been able to do was hope that it would be for the best, but even so, he knows what happened to him. He doesn't need to have it brought up again, or to celebrate a victory he'd have otherwise been dead for.
Except that it is a victory, and that was a few drinks ago. Now, it's just the saving the world part that matters. He's alive now, after all. What's more, this isn't something he'd ever really been able to do before. He's gone out drinking, sure, but instances of it have been few and far between, the need to be ready in the event of a kaiju attack outweighing by far the need to get drunk. Right now, he thinks he must have been missing out. The more he drinks, the more relaxed he gets, enough so that he doesn't even mind when Newt pokes his shoulder. It doesn't matter. Neither does the fact that this is the only place he'll ever be able to celebrate their winning. He should get to celebrate, to enjoy the fact that he helped accomplish what he spent his entire life working towards. That's the important part.
"We saved the goddamn world," he says, grinning, half-incredulous, louder than he means to but not caring. Newt's enthusiasm, as it turns out, is strangely infectious, and it's not like he gives a damn what anyone else has to say about it. "And hey, you know, if it had to happen like that, at least I went out in Striker, right? And with the best record in the PPDC."
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Except that it is a victory, and that was a few drinks ago. Now, it's just the saving the world part that matters. He's alive now, after all. What's more, this isn't something he'd ever really been able to do before. He's gone out drinking, sure, but instances of it have been few and far between, the need to be ready in the event of a kaiju attack outweighing by far the need to get drunk. Right now, he thinks he must have been missing out. The more he drinks, the more relaxed he gets, enough so that he doesn't even mind when Newt pokes his shoulder. It doesn't matter. Neither does the fact that this is the only place he'll ever be able to celebrate their winning. He should get to celebrate, to enjoy the fact that he helped accomplish what he spent his entire life working towards. That's the important part.
"We saved the goddamn world," he says, grinning, half-incredulous, louder than he means to but not caring. Newt's enthusiasm, as it turns out, is strangely infectious, and it's not like he gives a damn what anyone else has to say about it. "And hey, you know, if it had to happen like that, at least I went out in Striker, right? And with the best record in the PPDC."