"Mmm, I dare say for most of them, yes." The possible insult rolls off his back without incident or fanfare. He would rather be attacked for being a gentleman than be accused of being anything less.

He had not heard of such a place called Aretuza, but she does sound to be from a different time, so it stands to reason she might be from a different place altogether. They might understand each other, but he does not speak from the same vernacular that she does. They both probably sound different from many other people in this town.

Doc thinks to ask why she did not think to abandon post. It is dishonourable, yes. But twenty two people and a group of civilians does not sound like war. It sounds like they were left to die. He would not have thought any less of her had she chosen to leave and he doubts anyone else would have, either. But she asks about him instead and he thinks that he owes her at least something for her troubles of talking to him. A bit of tit for tat.

"I was in a small, sleepy town called Purgatory." It was ice to her fire, in the northern part of the world, with a stable temperature range and snowy winters. "A witch had made me what I am. But she was... not quite so endearing, as yourself."