This was an odd woman. Fucken oddest woman he had met so far in this strange City, and that was saying a lot once you'd met pirates, golden monkeys, vampires and little girls who claimed to slay demons. Fucken odd city at that. Very... fucken... odd.
But then she was asking that if he ever killed someone how he would do it. A question that was relatively irrelevant if she thought he was just a figment of her her imagination. "I wouldn't worry so much about my disappearing when and if you wake up. If I were you, I'd worry more about what would happen if this was my dream - not yours, and what happens to you when I wake up? You know, if that existential shit matters. All that matters to me, is that I'm here, you're here; I've got my smokes and soon I'm going to find myself a place to live that isn't under a fucken bridge before I go and have me a nice long drink."
Perhaps he should humor her, though. Perhaps that was the right thing to do, rather than being a rude sod about it all. He paused, took two drags off his cigarette before answering her. "If I was going to kill a man, I'm afraid I'm not very creative about it. I'd just beat the man until his body could take no more." Simple, that.