[He's quiet, looking off at nothing in particular, almost like he's not aware, not livid, not there with her anymore. Lost in his own thoughts or seeing something no one else can. At least, until he finally speaks and makes it apparent he's with her to a degree that might be uncomfortable.]

Times change. Soldiers change with the times. [A wave of the hand holding the glass.] Soldiers from culture to culture are different. Systems of morality, of good and bad, legality, it's all a mixed bag. A tossed salad that can't decide if it's fruits or vegetables, what the theme is. Get stuck here, some people are soldiers, might find similarities. What feels like it adds up, but nothing fits like it used to. Think you've found some people who you can get along with, have a basic understanding, but there's facets that they can't get. Won't get. Maybe don't want to get. Salad gets tossed again, find rocks in it. Inedibles. Getting rocks in your salad from someone you don't know is much different than someone you thought friendly chucking them in. Telling you to enjoy it just the same as the rest, acting like they're croutons, like you're the one who's not seeing anything how it really is.

[And then what to do when that situation arises other than get something hard and strong to drink? Coping in unhealthy ways is probably far different for her than it is for him. His liver, his body is mortal. Too mortal, full of other mortals without him knowing it.]

What're you gonna with the rocks?

[Throwing them back is probably not the best answer when it comes to interpersonal relationships. He may not having many good ones, but he knows that much. Turn them to ice and have a drink is a much better answer. Will's having a drink himself.

Food comparisons, metaphors, similes, it's better than going creepy. Isn't it?]