His head clears. The memory settles into place, clear and gentle as she was. Rose. For the first time Greg can truly feel his full age--full of longing, and loneliness, and love. The static is practically audible even to him, trying still to block her out, but it's too late. She's ingrained into him.

Greg takes a breath, and straightens up. "I'm fine. Thanks."

J is responsible, he's sure of it. Discretion is for the best. He gives the strange man small, tired smile, and repeats himself. "Thanks."