"Thanks," he answered, watching as she doctored her own wounds. Idly he sort of picked at random scabs he found. It was a weird quirk of his; he couldn't not pick at it if he found one.

"Again, thanks. I don't live too far, try right across the street, inside the aforementioned golden doors. "But honestly, I probably shouldn't be out on the street like this. Or like normal," he murmured.

Suddenly he saw the spider next to him, and another. Then he saw more with gauze(?) as he looked back. Wait...were they like the ones at the bar? He couldn't remember, but they didn't seem to bother him much as he just continued to drink his water.

"So, I take it you do this sorta thing often? The fighting I mean. The drinking and all that other stuff is none of my business. I just enjoyed the ride," he continued, taking one last sip of water and setting the now empty bottle down with a small shrug.

"I'm honestly not much of a fighter. Usually, when in a tight spot, I stab, they die, and that's generally the end of it."

Plucking up both spiders and gauze, she deposited it into the kit, and let the fuzzy arachnids crawl on her. She didn't feel the need to reply to him staying; she'd already offered. She did however, slip a glance at him when he brought up the fighting. This time without any sign of a grin, smirk, or smart-ass smile.

It wasn't something she usually talked about, other than the light banter she'd had with him earlier in the night. With a snort, she fixed a smirk back on her lips and set about fixing herself up. "I suppose you could say I do it often. Only recently with any real success, though."

She wasn't as willing to mention much more than that, at least not to someone she'd just met. "I grabbed your knife, by the way. I found it lodged in the bar." She nodded her head toward where she'd tossed her jacket. "... I take it you've lived on the streets before?" Either that, or he was some kinda mugger. Maybe gang member?... nah... most bangers would have had a much better tolerance to alcohol. She was hedging her bets on homeless, or thief. "Most people I know don't carry about knives like that unless they're lookin' for trouble."

Maybe he was just some stupid punk, like herself. Wandering around at night where she rightly shouldn't be, getting into trouble that's way over her head. Waiting for someone, somewhere, to hammer the final nail in her coffin.

Ty nodded, understanding. "Yeah, I lived on the streets since I was...16? 18? Something like that. Picking pockets, doing what I had to do to survive. I was eventually taken in by an old lady, but I still spent my life on the street. The old lady's house was just a place to crash. From there, I learned I was a mutant, was taken to Sanctuary. I still spend most of my time out on the streets, but...I can't help it. That's my nature. Only recently did I start carrying the knife. Got into a bind where I needed one. Didn't have one."

The birthday boy stifled a yawn, lying on the couch, wary of any spiders. He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Luck rarely ever gives me a good hand. So, I learn to tuck a few extra cards up my sleeve, so to speak.

She paused in her work to listen, nursing her beer in one hand. "Gotta get yourself a better knife, if that's the case. You're little number is good, but it takes an eight inch blade to hit the heart in one go. Just about as deep for the kidneys." She'd know, she'd aimed for them specifically in the fight before she'd gone to the bar.

Which reminded her; she needed to strike another name off her list. Two down, three to go!

"Don't worry about the bugs." She waved her hand dismissively at the tarantula behind her, who had its blue eyes fixed pointedly on Ty. In fact, both of the large spiders were eyeing him, frozen like miniature statues except for the occasional twitch of a leg. "They don't do anything unless I tell them too."

Ty nodded, thinking this over. "I generally go for the throat, but I see your point. Never really made a science out of killing. It's just...sometimes...necessary." And enjoyable. He forgot to mention he got a thrill from it sometimes. From that time he took his first life--granted he accidentally shot someone in the throat--there was some kind of...rush to it. He forced those thoughts down.

"Oh, I didn't think they would bother me," he answered, looking at them as she continued to dress her wounds. He nestled onto the couch, growing more comfortable. Then again he was sort of used to crashing on some girl's couch, in a sense. But that was a whole other story.

"That's good, cuz you'll most likely end up sleeping with some of them at some point during the night. Nosey little buggers." The grin was back, splitting her face from ear to ear as both tarantulas hovered a little closer expectantly. "I think it's body heat that attracts them. Either that, or they get lonely or something."

She shooed away the smaller spiders, closed her kit and pushed it away. "Speaking of sleeping..." Sipping her drink slowly, her eyes wandered to the ceiling and she mused to herself for a moment. "You can either crash on the couch, or risk sleeping in my roommates bed. He doesn't use it... I don't think. But.. eh, well you'll see if you choose that."

"Gotcha," he answered with a nod, then chuckled lightly. "So I see. And as for sleeping...well, if those are my only options, I pick the couch. I'm no stranger to sleeping on a girl's couch by myself," he mused lightly, shaking his head. For some reason, that whole ordeal seemed funny now that he was drunk. Normally it was something he forced to the darkest reaches of his mind. But now, it was a joke.

"I'll be fine. When I'm up to it I could just make my way across the street. Just...not right now." He settled into the couch more, smirking lightly.

Rising, she shuffled off momentarily, before returning with a blanket and a pillow. Tossing them unceremoniously at him, she snagged her drink and the medical kit in their place. "Mmm, some other girls couch? Scandalous." She turned to head off, paused, and turned back.

"If you wake up and i'm gone in the morning, don't bother with the door. No one in their right mind would think to tresspass here."

Briefly, she thought about warning him about the Sanctuary; It rubbed her all sorts of wrong ways. But then she remembered how little she cared, and dropped the subject entirely. To each his own, no matter how rotten. With a two fingered salute his way, she turned on her heel and headed for her own room, calling her goodnight over her shoulder as she went.

"Sweet dreams, birthday boy. Don't let the bed bugs bite~"

It was late in the night, and throughout Bug house
Not a creature was stirring, Roach ate every mouse.
Except for a birthday boy, splayed out on the couch,
Just in from a bar fight, and might I say, Ouch.

In wandered a bug, as hushed as could be
He snuck to the sleeping drunk, sipping his tea.
"A little bird told me your birthday's today."
He whispered in such a caringish way.

"And so, to give your day a positive lift
I'll leave on the table, and nicely wrapped gift;
A 13 inch stiletto that might save your life,
My Megan did tell me of your tiny ol' knife."

He patted the present and left him to slumber
Leaving a note, which the present sat under.
"May this knife kill your foes, and may death be your coach.
now stay away from my Megan and I won't eat you- Roach."