Oh, how fascinating! You see, pity that it isn't discernible, that his own misadventures of the night had no evidences of filth or the aroma of a funeral mound. If any symptom of his midnight work chimed through the bizarre charms of his anachronistic attire, which easily could be accepted as only being part of some show, it was the curious white smudge of face paint on his black cat shoulder. The proof was like a tiny meow from another world--it had no seeming place, wasn't too spooky, easily overlooked.
"I live here." He'd confirmed, grinning, nodding once independently to show his agreement, and then to demonstrate his disdain added. "Unfortunately." It was then he'd began to suspect she may have seen a thing or two, though if either mattered was a wonder. Narrowing his eyes faintly, the angle of his chin was stiff the way one animal may keep theirs in the face of another, peculiar one they'd never seen.
"You don't seem boring. You must live here too. Seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?"