Floyd stared at their captive for several moments. He might have been weighing the merits of answering him at all versus ignoring him, or he could simply have been amazed at the Wayne's audacity in addressing one of the mad dog killers that had snatched him right out of the middle of his own party. In fact, he was mostly wondering if it were too early in the day to start drinking. It looked like he was going to need it, the way this guy was going on and on. Like this was some kind of social outing and not a potentially life and death situation.
Which, he hated to admit--and would have denied even under the most brutal torture imaginable--was kind of weirdly ... endearing. Wayne wasn't any Lex Luthor, but at least he wasn't blubbering like his prom date had just stood him up. Maybe there was a brain working there, somewhere under all that hair gel and botox. Probably not, though.
"Lawton," said Floyd at last. It wasn't like his identity wasn't a matter of record to the authorities, anyway. "Floyd Lawton." And then, for reasons even he could not have entirely articulated, he kept talking. Most likely it was because Wayne didn't strike him as any kind of serious thread. "As for why you were singled out for this little birthday adventure, I have no idea. I'm just a hired gun. Pardon the obvious play on words." He nodded down at the handgun stuffed down the front of his pyjama bottoms; it was rare that he ever went completely unarmed, even in a supposedly secure retreat like this one.
Deciding that was probably more than enough small talk, Floyd stretched off to his left, to the mini-fridge stationed beside the couch, and withdrew a cold beer from inside. After a moment's consideration, he produced a second bottle, glancing over at Wayne as he did so. "Wet your whistle? Being a hostage seems like it'd be thirsty work. 'Specially with all that talking you do."
Why he was offering their target adult beverages, he didn't exactly know. Except ... well, he'd been in this kind of position once or twice himself in the past, and, thinking back on it, Floyd figured it would have been nice if someone had thought to offer him some kind of refreshment. Just for the sake of maintaining a little civility, and all.