[ She watches him in silence for a few seconds, her eyes on his. She can tell from his scent that he was nothing more than human, but there was something more than that. He'd been to many, many places, and Touka didn't need to be a ghoul in order to sense that. It was obvious in the way he carried himself, in the set of his jaw, in the broad expanse of his shoulders. He was likely a man used to combat, all things considered, and when he speaks again, she finds herself quirking a brow. ]

Liar.

[ The word itself is harsh, but her expression isn't. Something about him told her that she would likely never see him again. His visit to :re was likely a once-in-a-lifetime deal; she could practically smell it on him. Someone who smelled like that didn't stay in one place. Not for too long.

The sound of his heart is deafening in her ears. There's something comforting about it, though he's probably lucky that she isn't particularly hungry. ]

You aren't sorry. Even if you are, you've got nothing to apologize for.

[ She hands him a few napkins. ]

It'll hurt like hell if you spill it. It happens more often than you think.