It seemed that as soon as Gerard took Yuu's weight, she collapsed even more, forcing him to lean a bit before he wrapped an arm around her to keep her steady. "Mon dieu madamoiselle," he muttered as he lifted her up slightly, "if you are going to rest at least do it in your bunk." A scant few moments later Trapp tossed his flask back, but not before taking a swig of the liquid. Out of reflex, he turned it up and as expected, only a single drop of liquor came out eliciting a sigh from him. "You could at least ask, Trapp," he said as his superior officer walked away, "I could even get your your own damn flask." Well, he told himself, its not like he had a finite supply. Leaning down, he heaved Yuu over his shoulder and began walking away. He'd probably have to stop off at the dormitory to tuck in the sleepy genius, but he should probably check out the Marauder afterwards. The fight with the Rosy of Ilya had really challenged the limits of the MAS and pilot, not to mention the damage the former had sustained. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt to apply a new coat of lubricant to stop that horrid screeching in the cockpit.

Gently, Gerard put Yuu onto her bunk and left her to rest before making his way over to his own. He felt an intense urge to collapse into it himself but instead kicked the flase panel that hid most of his stash. It wasn't that the UAE prevented him from having liquor stored as a soldier. Its just that they had a maximum limit to how much they could carry. He still really had to thank Maki for finding this false panel in the first place, probably left by their predecessors on the Lincoln, or a very disgruntled engineer. Resting the empty flask against the inner wall, he began sifting through the racked bottles, looking for the one half empty one he had...somewhere in there. At the same time, he was suddenly aware that he smelled of motor oil and burning flesh, or at least his flight suit did, and winced internally, remembering old memories which he had thought buried.