If you're talking about that old hag, Lust - well, sure. But you should know by now that I've never seen eye to eye with the rest. [Greed's got his scotch to his lip and he takes a moment just to smell it. Strong, noxious. It's just like he remembers, but different all the same. He takes a sip at first, letting the sting of it bite down his throat. With all the changes this world has made, disease or otherwise, this is one of the newest things. Sure, he could feel it before. But it never got further than that.]

[He swallows more, almost hungrily. As if he's parched; as if he's been dying for the drink for centuries. The ice snaps to shards in his teeth and Greed's eyes sag half-hooded beneath his sunglasses. It's not the best, but it's good nonetheless. A sound boils in his throat when it bobs and for a second, his knuckles turn white. His nails bite in.]

[It's never nice to tempt the tempter. But he's also never been one to deny himself what he wants.]

[The glass is half-empty by the time he comes up for air.] No - [Greed sets his portion down with a resounding thud.] - wrong again. The others got him when he was in Dublith. [Sweat streaks lines at his nails, dripping into the shelled-out curves.] Just who the fuck have you been talking to?

[His face, though - it doesn't change. Still playing the Cheshire for his best grin, Greed rolls his body back into the booth. His fingers drum on the edge.] For someone who thinks they know me, you sure have a lot of things wrong. Though, you still know more than most. You might just be remembering something else entirely, Kimbley. After all -

[Again, his index goes skyward. His lips smack, his foot bounces. Picking up a rhythm from somewhere.] - there's no such thing as no such thing.