Pike was a solitary person, but not out of any real desire to be solitary. The truth was, he wanted people around him and he was quite desperately lonely, but he refused to allow himself the comfort of friends. At the same time, he didn't want to act like an anti-social douchebag, because eventually somebody would figure out he needed help and that was the last thing he wanted. This was his penance, and it would continue until the day he died. Was it any wonder that some dark, unacknowledged part of him wanted to pull a Boromir? Heroic death, hopefully redeeming him and definitely ending the pain that had been his constant companion since hell.
He nodded at her comment about her brother, but still made sure to keep the cigarette held where the smoke wouldn't blow at her. He wasn't one of those smokers that couldn't understand common courtesy. Sure, he didn't much care about the health risks - demon healing and a dangerous lifestyle could do that to you - but he certainly wasn't going to be a dick about it unless someone was on his shitlist. So far, that was nobody, not even the vampires. Wonders never ceased, apparently.
He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a puff before answering. "Gilded cage." Then he shrugged one shoulder, feigning indifference. "It is pretty, though." It was almost neurotic, the way Pike had to make sure there was a cloud to every silver lining. It was a rare thing indeed that he just went with the positive and ignored the negative. Melancholy could do that.