They came in prudently, and bantering yet bantering like gentlemen. They sat down at the far side of the bar, yet one of them noticed the man who was sitting.

“Look,” One of the captains who had a white beard said. “It is one of our old colleagues. Oh, how the time does seem to fly.”

The man at the bar seemed to harden, but he remained looking at his drink.

“Yes, I do recall knowing him once. Once he was a rather noble man. A man of dignity, unlike what he is now.” The man at the bar remained hard, and continued to stare at his drink.

“I wonder what will become of him. He can certainly not return to his former glory, that much is sure. It seems the business took much more out of him than he could have anticipated.”

The man at the bar stood up and turned to leave. Now was Drake’s chance. He stood up as well, and held out his hand as a “wait” motion. He then proceeded to reach out telepathically to the men at the bar. He touched not their conscious minds, but their subconscious minds so they would not be aware of his doing so.

[Leave.] One simple command was all he needed, as he sent the message gravely, and the subconscious mind knows which suggestions to heed and which to ignore, as wisdom Is not the subconscious mind’s forte. At once, each of the men stood up and left the bar without another word. Drake looked at the man after they had left. He returned the half angel’s gaze for a moment, before turning to leave.

“Please,” Drake said, “I don’t care what is happening, but I was sent to you and I need to know why. Why me, why you?”

The man looked at the door and sighed. “I wish I could tell you kid,” he said, “but the truth is, I’m not much of a captain.” And with that he was gone.

Drake looked around fruitlessly at the now empty bar. He sighed and sat down on a stool once more. How had he gotten into this? Why were they here once more? Because of Christmas, obviously. Drake buried his face in his palms as he rested his elbows on the bar. “Oh dear,” he said to himself, “This is going to be quite a long trip.”

What was the point in trying? Drake could do nothing right it seemed. Whenever he tried to do what he was asked, he was unsuccessful. The only thing he was good at was failing. But perhaps failing was not such a bad thing, because Drake made it apparent to learn from every failure of his, and of others. Perhaps it was necessity to fail, but at what point did the amount of failures suffered make one a failure in and of oneself? After all, if one’s purpose was to be successful, and failure was the only result, was that failure?