[The sound of ripped fabric has him half turning only to see a modified shirt instead. He blinks, and then shakes his head, a hint of amusement there in his expression before he snags his shirt back up to put it away.]

...Guess I'll owe you for a shirt, then.

[Turning back to face her, he leans back against the door and crosses his arms, a thoughtful frown pulling into place.]

Perhaps, but from what I've seen, there aren't that many above ground level willing to be bought by anyone other than the Nine, or their bootlickers, so it still leads back to the same.