Mn. ["Whatever you want to call it" seemed to be the translation. He looked at her neutrally, reassessing her appearance; it seemed like every time he saw her he had somehow forgotten all the little details. It wasn't that her future self looked much different, but they held themselves differently, and for some reason he could never hold that in his mind.

This conversation shouldn't happen in a dank little alley, but part of him, sour and stubborn, wasn't interested in playing the gentleman today.]

Can I do something for you?