"Nothing," she answered, snorting slightly and shaking her head. "It's just sort of this joke I have. With... myself." She scrunched her face, puckering her lips to one side and fiddling absently with the silver hoop pierced through the cartilage of her right ear. "Which isn't as crazy as it sounds, I promise." It wasn't anything against him, but most of the time Mikal tried to steer the conversation away from her profession. Not that she was ashamed of it, or anything... rather, she found that people tended to react differently to her once they found out what she did. But alas, that was the world they lived in, right?

She observed him as he noticed the blood smeared across his knuckles, hiding an amused smile by lifting her brows high on her forehead and sighing in overexaggerated relief when he pulled out his own pack of cigarettes. "Oh my god, yes. That bastard made me lose my last one." It was still lying on the pavement a short distance away where it had landed after it had been punched out of her mouth. She stepped forward to accept it, holding it between her fore and middle fingers while her other hand frisked her pockets for her favorite lighter. "You really are my hero tonight!"

His question about Old Town Towers illicted an affirmative nod. "Yep. I've seen you around there a few times, right?" Pulling her zippo from her back pocket, she shoved the unlit cigarette between her lips and leaned in to light him up first, carefully cupping her hand around the flame while she talked around the filter. "I'm Mikal, anyway. And uh, you might want to put peroxide on that," she said, gesturing to the blood he'd just smeared on his jeans. "Gets it right out." Don't ask how she knew these things. She was just an abdundant source of useless, unmarketable information.