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"Your scar on your hand. Circle X."

"Blue. It's your hair, nice colour."

"You work consistently with herbs and chemicals," Sherlock deduced upon examining the traveler's hands. "You are part of a long line of traditional values and you respect the work you perform and are respected in return. It is only appropriate that I call you 'locum tenens' for the wanderlust that preoccupies you as well as your chosen profession."

"I must admit, I'm hardly imaginative with these sorts of things. I tend to be...a bit literal." For a brief moment Sherlock appeared sheepish with his self-observation, but he promptly moves on.

"Ummm... Kyoko. Yeah, that's good."

The artist snaps her fingers with a bright smile, suggesting, "How about Maiz? That's one of my nicknames too, sometimes, though it's probably pronounced differently. If not--" Maisi studies her for a second more, then hums, "Maybe Popstar?"

“I think you have a ‘Denny’ look.”

"Just plainly Dj, I'm afraid. I'd remember nothing else, unless you'd like to make~" Amory winked a bit and smiled.

"You look like a Kitty to me!"

"Imma call ya Buddy."

There was an awful lot of eagerness to Jim's exclamation. "Oh, you'll be Muttley! Go on, do the laugh!"

"Uh... I don't get it? Is that supposed to be a reference to something?"

"Oh, oh my. Google at your fingertips and you couldn't be bothered to reference check yourself. All right, I'll deal the deets, love," Jim procures his cellphone from the breast pocket of his three-piece. "Muttley is a cartoon character before my time, but even so, I enjoyed the Dick Dastardly shenanigans nevertheless. He's a lovable rapscallion, I tell you. And once again, I reiterate, you are Muttley, now do the laugh."

"You presume too much buddy, you're operating under the belief that I'm from some kind of modern era when I'm clearly a medieval fantasy character, i.e. I have no idea what you mean by Google. Either way, thanks for the info though I could have done without the snide comments. As for the laugh; kindly go stuff it where the sun don't shine as I ain't your personal buffoon. Have a nice day!" Stray winks at the human man.

"Wait," he called out to the young fighter. "You didn't give me a nickname." Jim seemed, if anything, vaguely disappointed.

"Them's the rules. How was I to know where or when you came from? I'm hardly Sherlock Holmes," he added, his tone artificially saccharine upon the mentioning of a certain consulting detective. "And besides, that would be breaking the fourth wall. That kind of knowledge comes from either extensive research or overstepping boundaries that delve a little too close to the the edge of omniscience, which by the way, I do not proclaim to have."

He takes a moment to consider before he tries again. "Okay, fine, since you were so upset by a little silliness, I will try again. How about I call you 'tiny titan?' There's just so much fury in such a small package."

Looks to Moriarty, "The Gaffer."

((Dick Dastardly, such an interesting villain, I took notes when I was much younger. He reminded me of Terry Thomas, who sometimes portrayed another excellent villain))

"How about Tash? Or maybe Master Lyricist, if we're feeling flamboyant, since I see you like penning poetry."

"I see you like swords and adventure. How bout Xena."

"Smitty, it's on your profile and it does suit you, sir."

"Does anyone call ya Bobby?"

Ruby, if I like you. Slippers if you annoy me.