Engrossed in his food, KB was more than a little surprised when the newcomer in the lounge spoke to him directly. He hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of beef before putting on a smile that seemed to lean more on the side of a grimace. "You can call me by whatever name pleases you, lass. They only call me that because the world of martial arts ain't a piece o' piss, you gotta be a right bastard to be the best. Join me for brekkie?" He politely waved at an unoccupied chair. KB figured that a little courtesy might not be a bad idea now. Not that he was good at making friends. But if they were stuck working together might as well try to make it pleasant.

"That stuff you do with fire- right proper flash, that. That's really the sheep's arse. Saw what you did just now with those knives, too. Beaut stuff, there. I'm sick of these drongos who only want to use guns. Guns for show, knives for a pro, eh?" KB took in her more casual clothes. He hadn't thought to look through his bunk for clothing, he was still wearing the orange bottoms of his prison uniform. He'd have to lay his hands on some more comfortable duds.

Taking a swallow of his Scotch, he charged forwards with his awkward attempt to be friendly, choosing the only subject he felt comfortable talking about. "I've done some knife fighting, here and there. Texas, Corsica, Manila, Ostrobothnia, the Pampas. Folk know what they're doing with a blade in those places, no two ways about it. What I'm saying, lass, you ever want to swap a couple tricks that'd be right by me. We could both learn something useful. I mean, a bloke never knows so much he can't learn more." He wondered what else to say, couldn't think of anything, and instead shoveled more food into his mouth.