[The humility is an added layer of amusement, and though he doesn't call it out, he does find it refreshing. Maybe he's just jaded. Most of the people he encounters are mean and foul, so this almost reminds him of...

An unhappy thought that Cain shrugs off, rolling his shoulder and sucking on the end of the cigarette. Mellowed, like rain over a fire, mirth fades.]

Huh. I'd take that over the stuff I get to hear. A lot more creative. [He turns his eyes back onto their surroundings—still dazzling enough to distract him. It feels unreal. Maybe this is a waking dream.] You can call me Cain, don't make up some shitty nickname or I'll knock you out.

[He's gotten used to using the pseudonym, so it's easy now, an identity pulled on like a layer of wool against the cold.]

What's yours, Nantucket? [haha.]