He takes the tissue with a very self conscious lack of good grace. He doesn't even question where she got it from. Who even fucking cares about the laws of conservation of matter. Maybe her strife specibus is handkerchiefkind. He blows his nose to cover an ill-timed hiccup. "Thanks."

Wait, pilot? That had been close enough to a legitimate phrasing that he'd almost glossed over it, but humans don't have the organic nor psionic knack necessary for helmsman tech, as he recalls. She probably meant a captain, of a perfectly non-living unpsychic ship with no weird symbiotic components whatsoever. Humans sure are weird.

"Did you really just sum up a time traveling universe devouring demon as 'that sort of thing' while also claiming just imperial fuck-tons of experience with it? Yeah, that's total bullshit. Who even are you, anyway?" He's dimly aware he's still being an asshole, but he's being a conversational non-crying asshole, and far from the outraged and impersonal tirades from earlier, this is delivered in a relatively calm and perhaps even friendleaderly tone, if you know him. And she's really quite similar to a friend, even if she's actually a dream bubble inhabiting human stranger. Who may be a part of some kind of intergalactic demon execution squad? Or possibly completely full of shit.