Sunbathing outside the station is to Apollo what sleep is to everyone else. It’s a daily ritual for him to spend a few hours chasing the sunlight around the station, darting around the hull in a white-hot streak of heat and light. By the time he returns to the station again he’s golden and glowing, restless with renewed energy.

It’s like this, giddy and breathless with restored strength, that Apollo arrives in the bar. His pack of cards are here, abandoned from last night’s late evening/early morning session, tucked away behind the bar where anyone can help themselves. He almost misses Alex sitting there as he retrieves them, but he turns at that familiar voice and gives him a beaming grin.

"Hey, not bad, thanks..."

But then his eyes catch on the glint of liquid and glass and Apollo belatedly realises just what kind of situation he’s intruded upon.

“How about you, sailor?" He hesitates, expression falling in to one of concern as he eyes the drink. "I see you're going for the liquid breakfast today..."

(In all honesty, Apollo has no idea what time it is. Breakfast time, lunchtime, morning, afternoon, night, who the hell knows when you’re on a space station with a hundred sunrises a day?)