Not many people asked him what he preferred, in terms of moniker - for awhile he'd been sensitive, shall we say, about his lack of hand; he'd killed an unfortunate fellow named Barnaby, in front of his wife even, for daring to refer to him as 'One-Handed Jones.' Killian still wore Barnaby's ring on his good hand, a shiny prize and a story to tell, a reminder to not fuck with him. These days, he was more used to the moniker of Captain Hook - accepted it for what it was, and learned to do most everything with only one hand anyway.
But still, it was nice to be asked. "Killian suits just fine, then," he flashed a white-toothed smile, shaking the woman's hand when she offered it. "A pleasure, Loki. Are you a sorceress?"
Perhaps a bold question to ask, but he was quite curious and no doubt she could sense a similar magical kindred spirit in him too - despite how he didn't usually wear the scent of the arcane.