[ Gilgamesh matches his pace, shifting his head side to side to take in the sights of the station. He wouldn't have an issue keeping up with Reinhardt's regular pace either, but he doesn't think it matters enough to note it. He appreciates the chance to take stock of this place.

He can't help but chuckle, at Reinhardt's heartbreak. ]

Perhaps it is only the beers I have had a chance to experience, but it's a foul-tasting thing. It does not suit my sensibilities.

But it is a relief to know I will not be wanting for supply. I went through a man's entire store of alcohol, once, living in the modern era. Humans tend not to keep enough of these sorts of things readily accessible.

[ Which may speak to Gilgamesh's hedonism, or rampant alcoholism. Whichever. ]