At least Rosinante is never hard to find. For the second time, the Soldier has that weird "I want that" feeling over the cigarette, and eyes it with mild interest on its way over. It looks between the floor and the table, considers what the polite thing to do is: sit on the floor to one side with Rosinante, or a chair on the other side of the table? Or stay standing? This might just be an interrogation, rather than a conversation, so maybe standing is appropriate.

It does realize, now that it's not in "all business" mode, that it probably wasn't great to tear the guy's shirt apart, though. So it opens with that, still on its feet: "Sorry about your shirt."