This is not the city he remembers. It's been a few years since he's been back here, but he doesn't remember this amount of construction; this amount of decay. It was almost like the New York of his youth, back before the big C had moseyed its way into his life and shaped him into the man he is today.

He certainly doesn't remember ever meeting the man currently slumped on one of the benches on one side of the bridge, watching the fire as if searching for some kind of answer there. It's upon seeing Gren sitting there that Wade suddenly realizes this is a dream, and not one of his own. His dreams probably would have held a lot more violence.

Silently, Wade makes his way over to where the one-armed man is sitting, slipping into a seat beside him and joining him in staring at the blaze. For once, the Merc with a Mouth is silent, save for a telltale click of a lighter as he lights a cigarette and takes a drag. He lets the smoke curl lazily out of his mouth before finally breaking the silence.

"Y'know, I almost forgot the way this city smelled in the rain."

It's unclear whether he meant that to be a compliment or not. Wade takes another pull of his cigarette before taking it from his lips and offering it to Gren.