Riffraff was the name he'd been given and with the sort Riffraff was, that was likely all he was going to get. With some people, you didn't press for fiddly details. Besides, with no access to outside networks, there was no way of making use of names anyways.
"From everything I've seen, I'd almost wager money on it," he admitted. "American military designations, the Commissioner's note. So far, it's looking like at least he's American." He nodded and set off towards the pub in question, keeping pace with her.
He had no reason not to be forthcoming. In this case, he had nothing to hide from other prisoners here and if they were plants, they'd already know. If this were some sort of twisted social experiment, he was going to do his bloody level best to keep it from going down the 'Lord of the Flies' path.
"Cathair or Cath is fine, Mrs. Perez," he replied nearly automatically. Of course, just because he'd given her permission to use his first name didn't mean he assumed the same familiarity with her. More of his old fashioned upbringing. "I'm a book keeper. I've a shop in a small town in Massachusetts. And you?"