He laughs, honest-to-God laughs, and it feels good, even if it's just a few drops in the empty, Eds-and-Stan-shaped hole in his heart. Maybe that's the blessing talking, but he really does feel a little better. He's so used to being the one to make everyone laugh that her being a goof, even just for a second, is a taste of his own medicine.

"Ye-ah." He abandons the bottle, fishes some munny out of the butt pocket of his jeans, and slips it underneath for the bartender to find later.

"Where do you think a guy can get a weapon around here? I'm not punching this thing. I punch like a second grader."