A trouble is, he's never been able to find suitable companionship. Not that he's really tried. And not that he's had many opportunities in his life as a ghoul (it's a sad fact that ghost people make terrible conversation partners; just try approaching them, and they'll chop your head off). And, well, it isn't as if Dean Domino was the friendliest person alive when he was human. He's always been better at making enemies. Or rivals. Or bittersweet... scratch that, just bitter acquaintances.

Would it be nice to find someone worth knowing in the Wasteland? He likes to think not, likes to think he doesn't need anyone and that making nice with anyone would really cramp his style. But there are times he grows weary of his own company. Times he even thinks that maybe, maybe he's missing out on something. That there's more to life than holing up inside his rooms churning over old grudges.

"Impressive. You're something special, aren't you?" There's no real warmth in the words - more a distanced curiosity - but there's also no hint of mockery. He might be starting to disdain her just a little less.

At her final remark, he snorts a laugh. “Spite and bitterness have always been my motivators of choice. ...I suppose I might put them to better use.”