He's still Alvo. Prickly around the edges because that's just how he is, mouth sharp enough to cut yourself as his mother used to say. Woody can't help but snicker a little bit though because -- well. It's true. They haven't seen each other since forever, pretty much, and that's all they've got to say. A girlfriend, a haircut, children aging. Enough's passed that he figures even if Alvo promised to shut up for an hour and let them all speak no one would really know what to say.

Maybe it's better that way. Judging by Bax's look there's something he doesn't want to talk about or have known and he could never call Quinn an oversharer. Rick maybe, if he were here, but he's not.

Still he grins as he raises his own glass, dropping one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Her name's Jenny. But you, you've got to have some stories, hey? Out tripping the light fantastic, living the life..."