"I get the sense you think pretty highly of yourself, so this might come as a surprise t'you, but I honestly don't give a shit about your feelings one way or the other," Nathan answers. "It was a genuine question, because no matter which side of the glass you were on, it's still pretty fucking psychotic, just offering t'kill a guy."

He gestures at himself, "And this is coming from the guy with no shame. I'm a proud fuck-up, mate, I don't even know what the hell you are."

He pinches the joint to extinguish it, then slips it into the front pocket of his jeans, regardless of how it'll make his clothes smell. At this point he should probably walk away or he really will end up getting killed, which he doesn't especially want at the moment, immortal or not. He has a feeling this creep will make it bloody and he quite likes the shirt he's wearing.

"You realize people shit themselves when they die, right?" he asks. "Why do you think anyone who's then going to wake up in the same bloody clothes would volunteer for that? Walking home with full trousers? No thank you."