Rafalia
She chuckled at his surprise. "I am many things, you'll find," she said, allowing him to do as he pleased, if the pretense or effort at gentlemanly ways amused him. She'd prefer chips, but this was reward in and of itself.
The darkness trying to make up for her wounds tickled however, and his choice of expression tickled in a different way. Rafalia frowned playfully at him, daring Methuselah to interpret it as he would.
"So presumptuous of you to make that call, especially when you claimed the opposite of me earlier. Someone who looks like they're stringing their own broken body around shouldn't sound so cheeky." She poked a shoulder that had been run through with arrows, almost chuckling yet chiding him at the same time.
"But thanks. I feel no pain worth speaking of right now. No need for concern. And these wounds," she said, pointing at the filled large gash on her side, "except for this one, would close easily anyhow."
Methuselah did not get the occasion to scrutinize futher before she snapped her fingers, and her appearance restored itself to its iconic and unblemished model in a flutter of stardust.