There were a few obvious reason why he didn’t want to continue the fighting. Perhaps the most obvious was his body, it was in total disarray and engaging in another bout at this time meant that he’d only end up even more injured. Not to mention, there would be no holding back, he didn’t have that luxury anymore. She’d proven herself to be someone not to be underestimated, to do it two times in a row would be a supreme disservice. Which only meant, he’d have to kill her, viciously, and effectively. He didn’t want to do that, not to someone who saved him from the danger of being eaten; even if she was the person trying to eat him. Second. He didn’t want to fight her anymore.. not at the level it’d have to be at. She obviously had something besides the hunger of a ghoul on her mind, or else she would have killed him instead of helping him. There was more than just the darkness of starvation inside of her. That meant perhaps she was one of those created ghouls, someone who wasn’t born into this life; they were created. Every other ghoul black had run across had been a true born; they were violent and hungry. Why hungry? Was she the answer? Was her presence in the area enough to starve out the others? Or was it the presence of created ghouls in general? There was a rumor going around that created ghouls were even stronger than normal ghouls. Interesting. Black’s inner monologue was broken as he looked over the woman’s form, she wasn’t looking at him at the time giving him a good moment to see who had attacked him. The features were definitely female, nothing out of the ordinary really except the fact that she was very attractive. He found a bit of heat flushing his cheeks at the thought before gaining control over his blush. This was the person who almost killed him, not a potential fling. As the blush faded from his cheeks a look of shock took it’s place. Her words almost didn’t seem real for a moment; was she joking? Being left to his own devices in the room for a moment, Black stood off of the couch and shuffled over to a table. It looked like a coffee table.  His left arm took a few moments to try and pull his damp and heavy shirt off of his body, but to no avail. All that happened was a few grunts of annoyance followed by the shuffling feet towards the kitchen.” Sorry about the water… You wouldn’t have any dry clothing.. for men would you?” IT wasn’t the most polite question to ask, but what else could he do. She didn’t like the water, the only way to stop getting things wet was to change clothes.