The best defense was attack; between the two of them, it would be a race to see who crashed first, and considering she was usually the dramatic one, it was way better to put in a foot before Punk did. The fact that she genuinely cared about him was important, of course - but it was never a bad idea to be sure of where she stood. Punk had the music, the place, and something of a moral high ground. So Goth had to seize what chances she ventured upon.
He wasn't likely to deceive her with that reply. The goddess was well aware that Punk was made of many layers, if not of exactly how many they were. That he had been hired by an immortal was interesting, but damned if it couldn't wait. She was the one looking for a distraction, an opening, and wasn't going to be diverted lest he punch back. Things might be - would be - different after more than a few drinks, but Goth wouldn't risk it now.
While they talked about him, there would be no talk of her. Thankfully.
"No, really. How have you been?" she repeated, without looking away. Come on, you idiot. It's me. What am I going to do, tell on you? We're both outsiders, and I need you. Don't run.