Greg found himself finishing his drink; the booze made him feel loose and a bit tired. He'd had a hell of a day, and as he sat there, he thought about his own mum at home. She was probably wondering where he'd been all day, and Greg reluctantly realized he should probably be pushing off.
"I'm glad your mum's doing well. She's a looker, your mum is," and Greg paused, "Or was. Although I don't expect that's changed much in five years. Five years," he said as he gazed at Draco, feeling the distance between them, their differences accutly, "Draco, let' not wait so long next time to get together, okay?"
He had a note to his voice, signally that he figured the visit was sort of over. He wanted to ask Draco more, but he felt this wall between them, this hesitation to talk more and be more candid. Besides, Greg had come to talk to Draco about what was on his mind; beyond that, Greg wasn't sure what else he could say. He did brighten at a notion, "Maybe we could go riding brooms sometime. If you still do that?"