It's closer, this time. Gaeta's never really been one for full-fledged belly laughs, but the snicker that cracks apart his grief has enough feeling behind it that it even seems to catch him by surprise.

"Could be tough," he says, solemn. As quick and discreet as he can, he wipes his eyes. "I heard you could only file the form between 0900 and 0903. And they want ten copies of it."