She wrinkles her nose at him when he winks at her, albeit in a playful way. And then she lets her eyes drift over to the bartender, who appears to be making a drink with a pickled egg in it despite the fact that she's never seen pickled eggs in the bar. "Honestly, could go either way with her."

While he explains his tattoos, she listens, taking a sip of her own drink. "I have to guess the jungle rat was either an in joke or a nickname in your unit." That often seems to be the way with the people she knows that have served. The mention of his family crest gets an understanding look, and her hand finds its way back to give his a squeeze again. "I don't think you mentioned that he passed when we briefly talked about family before. I'm sorry. It never gets easier, does it?" There's only a moment of hesitation before she continues, "my mother passed when I was 16." There's - so much more to it than that, but that's exactly when her life starts to get messy. It's not a stone she's eager to flip over.