Julian was really starting to despise time travel. Granted, he'd ended up in the same century at least, but with that came its own complications--he actually existed in this timeframe. Two years out from graduating Starfleet Academy, in fact. He could look up his own file if he wanted.

On the wake of that realization came the fact that he had knowledge of events that hadn't yet transpired, but would, terrible things that he couldn't interfere with, lest he make it infinitely worse without even meaning it. Nevermind the Temporal Prime Directive. He could potentially warn Captain Picard of the most devastating events in recent Federation history, but at the same time knew that was impossible.

Either one of these would be enough to drive a man to drink.

Julian had the added injury that he had to by necessity revert to hiding his genetic status. No one, much less Julian--either the starry-eyed young cadet or the older and considerably more careworn officer that he was now--was ready to deal with the fallout of that particular revelation.

And because injuries couldn't go without insult, synthehol stood about as much chance as water of getting him honestly drunk, due to his enhanced metabolism. Bloody hell.

"Another round, if you please."

But he's sure going to try, apparently.