Greg nodded once, just slightly- part understanding, part empathy, but knowing better than to claim either of them aloud. Instead, he pushed past it, taking the redirect about the portkeys.
"They are pretty fucked up; made me sick as hell the first time I did it. But they work. How the fuck else would I get here in an hour? 'Sides, they're free, too. No customs," Which might have implied they could take this party elsewhere, if it came to that. Hell, Greg had done crazier things than take in an ex-con. And if said ex-con was going to be a drug connection (one thing he hadn't managed to acquire, here)? He'd take it.