"Maggie, come on. Have we seen a time where I wasn't damn vocal about me and mine and what I like and don't like?" Given he is vocal about everything, it's pretty obvious he might be honest about it. And loudly honest about it. More loudly than she might want it to be.

"I figured you were a clean freak in other ways," he says, smirking but not entirely blowing it off as he nods. "I'm going to look like absolute shit as a blond. We both know that, right?" Which did bother him, more than the idea of bathing in bleach. He had worked so hard to keep himself to a certain level of handsomeness, and that does worry him.

"How do you cope with things like orifices and your eyes and all?" Which is a bit more serious question, thinking about things he's heard throughout the years of those that cleaned places, and cleaning up blood as well so it couldn't be traced back to him or others.

Yet even with the talk, he leans into her touch.

"I promise then. You know the only two people that even are close to me, well three but I'm not ever going to be intimate with one of them again, and you'd be one of the first to know if they ever came back here. No one else is any concern to me, Maggie. Most aren't. Not beyond casual shit." Or business and crime, which he didn't have as much here.