He hesitated for a moment as he reached the pub. Should he tell someone? “Fuck it.” He thought, and crossed the door into the smoke filled warmth. There was nothing he or anyone could do about it, he might as well wait over a beer.
He ordered and stood waiting by the bar. Some team was beating some other team at soccer on the telly, half the patrons cheered while the other half stared sadly into their pints.
The foamy glass arrived at last, fresh from the tap. His senses filled with the smell of hops and barley as he enjoyed the first taste of the strong and creamy stout.
The match seemed to be getting interesting. The sad half of the pub suddenly cheered while “Oofs” and “No’s” erupted from the other half.
He took his time enjoying the beer. “Dark as hell.” He thought, and chuckled just a bit. He’d better make the most of it. Who knew how much time it could take for another civilization to stumble upon the wonderful possibilities of controlled fermentation.
He finished up his pint, and was just considering a second round when the cheering in the pub began to die out.
Everyone was staring at the screen where the brightly dressed figures had stopped playing and were now looking at the sky in disbelief.
Ah, well… no time for seconds then. He took one last longing look at the wide array of delicious nectars waiting on the tap.
With a sigh he headed for the door.
The sky was already on fire, a wonderful show now doubt… unless you were one of the inhabitants of what would soon become ground zero.
“What a bloody waste.” He thought. But he still had his duty and, unlike those back at the pub, no free will to renounce it.
In a flash he spread his wings and took off to join the battle, brandishing a fiery sword.