[He can't stop smiling at her. There's sincerity in her eyes, genuine appreciation for the little bit he's shared. And he's well past being needlessly humble or minimizing the fact that he thinks his work is— you know, kind of important.] And what do they call you in your world?

[Their drinks get made remarkably quick. He accepts his, then slides hers over to her. It leaves a trail of condensation shining on the counter top. The air in here is thick and warm, soupy with substances and energy that he in all his mutant freedom fighting years doesn't quite have the words for. Unfamiliar, a little. But intimately familiar too.]

I'm John. If you prefer code names and call signs, I have one of those too.