[There's an interesting reaction to being thanked. Maybe the battle-experienced, angry, bitter soldier is shy? Greg's smile flickers and fades, and he shrugs as he straightens himself up.]

Ah, man. I made you run out on your beer, huh? I'll have to buy you another sometime. Or, like, lunch. Something.

[He's not sure how soon he should go back to that bar, and he hasn't yet figured out that things are generally free around here. It's the thought that counts.]