"People here keep calling them zombies." Michonne hadn't seen an old person in a long time; too slow or too ill or too weak to fight off the events that came, either turned, eaten or left to rot. Any of them with any sense would've opted out, she's sure.
"Swords don't run out of bullets." They didn't attract noise either, and Michonne was all about silence.
"Are you going to pass out in your own vomit? Because if you get any on my pants, I will hurt you." There was no point in hoping he'd shut up, and she might've just opened herself up to the asinine yammering of a drunk with questions, but so long as he didn't get irritating again....