Unbidden, one corner of Gaeta's mouth quirks up, just a little.

"Well," he says with forced lightness, "it's mutual, sir. So..." He chances another swift glance around, then picks up his plate -- empty enough that he doesn't feel too bad about discarding the few remaining scraps -- to drop it off in the big wash basin Radar's manning a couple yards away.

After one last exchange of pleasantries with a couple other attendees, he tips his head toward the fence line and starts walking.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere in particular after this," he confesses. "Got any ideas?"