From THE ENSIGN: THE FINAL YEARS by Fedler Bendge. Chapter 42, p. 369.

..... 'The line load!' complained the bitter bearded little Israelite to his fat useless friend, the CMMDR. But the CMMDR, a self-loathing ass clown whose only redeeming feature was that at some point not too far away he would cease to exist, only envied the double arc the Ensign had scored. And as the Ensign denigrated his current employment - and rightly so, as Quantico had all the cachet of a Division rerun - the clammy height-challenged fuckup was battling his own demons: a Hieronymus Bosch of a personal life, a career that looked like a donkey's aborted fetus dipped in feces, and the health of a ninety year old beagle. The CMMDR, with the nightmares of A. Kauffman ass-fucking him with a leaf blower burdening his waking hours, shuffled from AA to his shrink and back, a walking tomorrow of rain clouds.*

The Yarn Princess-alum, his arc life soon-to-be depleted, was focusing his energies on the upcoming spring. There was Hebron to deal with, and much time for regret....

* see CA-CA-COMMANDER: THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL OF A DIP SHIT, p. 451