Lux wasn't one to miss the look that crossed Tomiko's eyes; that haunted look only those who earned themselves their own personal slice of hell in hot combat zones could truly wear.  She wasn't one to miss the way the slim Asian's body tightened, the way her fingers jerked against the knife sheathed on her leg as the other woman eyed her coat.<br/><br/>She was likewise sure Tomiko didn't miss the way her own body tensed in response, how her own fingers flexed reflexively at her left side where her service pistol was hitched.  Ruthlessly, she fought back her own wave of memories that threatened to storm over her and leave her crying in the dark like they did most nights.  She was barely successful, but the burning trail of whiskey she sucked back helped a bit.<br/><br/><em>War's over. Long over,</em>she told herself several times.  When the other woman forced a smile to her face, Lux forced herself to relax.  She tilted her head slightly at Tomiko, considering for a moment.  She glanced at the bottle in her hand, then shrugged, took another pull, and offered it out.  "Whitewall whiskey.  Burns like a<em>feh feh pi goh</em>, but it'll clear yer sinuses right out," was all she said.