Mikkish chuckled at Eleanor calling him 'Mr. Callahan.' 

"Please, miss. Call me Mikkish." he said, taking another sip of his wine.

It wasn't the Mikkish hadn't picked up on Eleanor's snobbish reaction to his wine and his home. It was just the Mikkish didn't care. 

No, it wasn't that he just didn't care. He actually found it amusing. 

"Clayton." Came another voice. This time, a similar accent but...different. It drew attention to the man who said it. A man, taller than anyone else yet in the room, wearing a duster and a stoic expression.

"Ah, Clayton McDougal. I think we've met." Mikkish smile upon addressing Clayton was very obviously fake; a thin veil over the seething anger he held over the incident years ago "Only one here who killed that broodmother on the moon. Pity."