"Ah-?" Greed lifts his head from his drink. The language she speaks is familiar, but different. Something about it a bit more smooth, a bit more poised. Not as rugged or as sharp as Ling and his bodyguards had used, but indiscernible nonetheless. But he raises his hands above his head, gives her the playful gesture of a surrender. Whatever she said, it can't be good, and from the tone of it, sounds like he may have hit a nerve or two.

"Oi, oi, oi - " The Sin starts, his eyes rolling behind his shades. For a second or two, there's a put-off look on his face. As if he's slighted by her correction, by her statement. "-wasn't anything personal, y'know. I'm just not that good of a guy."

But he slides his feet away as he watches her. She's hungry: it's a good sign. That there's still some light at the end of the proverbial tunnel and as the train takes a turn, Greed clips his drink by the rim. "Not that bad, right? Used to be a favorite. Least, around the 'Nest."

The Sin takes another drag from his scotch, slipping his tongue over ice before there's a crunch, a split and shards tumble down his gullet. He sets the glass down afterward, shooting a heel up to cradle against the opposing knee.

"Feeling a little better?" Greed says, as he slouches forward and turns his head back to her. He knows she isn't - there's too many missing pieces of the equation for her to be remotely all right. But, it's a start.