Mason turns towards Hartigan, his held composure cracked: a small trickle of tears flows gently. Despite his obvious grief, he speaks with a small smile.
"He always had that effect on people, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We'll be hosting a memorial service sometime soon, once things quiet down. I hope you and Nile will come, otherwise take care of yourself my friend."
Mason puts his hand on Hartigan's shoulder and gives a firm comradely squeeze. Then he turns and leaves the diner himself, wiping his eyes with his hand as he walks.