"Jobs like those don't show up often. I know you've probably done your fair share of shit bounties before." He said, taking a taste from some of the Nova Tears himself. He decided he should get a bit of the hard stuff, if only to keep him talking. He wasn't usually one for conversation, particularly with a naked woman. When that happened he tended to be busy with something else. "It's only been the last two years I've built my reputation up enough to get them thrown my way, anyway." 

"That doesn't answer my question," she pointed out wryly, and then giggled. The drink was getting to her visibly now, if only just. 

"I had a lot of debt until a few months ago." He admitted, but he didn't extrapolate further. She raised her brows, so as to goad him to continue. He merely took another heavy drink of Nova Tears, and then after a long silence, he halfway sidestepped the explanation. "My armor costs a lot to maintain, though. That and this hotel room. But Volkavax's name goes almost as far as mine, by virtue of him never leaving Neo-Mecca. I get a discount when they know I work for him." 

"Wouldn't being infamous make your job a bit harder? You don't have an ego thing, do you?" She jested with a gesticulation of her voice, her last question emphasized through a full-bodied voice one only made when teasing. It was a bit tattered when she burped suddenly, evidently surprising even herself by the widening of her eyes and the following rueful smile. 

"There are two ways to be a bounty hunter. One way lies subterfuge and anonymity. Makes the job easier in a lot of ways, no one suspects you, and you can get in and out of places you've been to before. It's got its uses... I don't do that." He explained. Dirk didn't seem old, at least judging by the lean body and trim muscles she could see rising out of the bubbling water. But he spoke as if he had thought on the intricacies of bounty hunting as if he was an old pro, with more than a couple of years under his belt. "The other bounty hunters, the ones that make names for themselves. They don't do it for the flak, at least the good ones. They do it because as soon as your mark hears your name, they're pissing their pants. They know they're being hunted. They know the hunter after them won't stop. They'll get nervous and make a mistake." 

He took a good swig after that, letting her digest the information. "Besides," he said, clearing his throat. "Assholes'll be less likely to get in your way if they know you've killed bigger things than them."