"Depends on your definition of gettin' propped up, Freckles." Hell, she was just askin' for that one; he raises an eyebrow and gives her a little grin, but a damn shooting pain -- no pun intended -- in his leg wipes that off his face pretty fast. Must be more'n obvious. "But yeah, I guess I do."

Like usual, no one asks to get paid, so he don't offer. It'll come back around, right? One of these days. He knows enough to know ain't nothin' free on this or any other planet, moon, or asteroid, and he ain't exactly known for not overdoin' it when he has the opportunity. But he'll still worry about the future sometime in the future. Not now, not today, not here.

"Thanks for comin' with and havin' lunch together, Freckles." When he pushes back the chair and stands, his leg's a little wobbly. Guess that's all right; he did just get shot in it a couple days ago. A man can only tough his way through so much in so many situations before somethin's got to give.