"People who go around calling themselves innocent are usually the ones who aren't," Newt points out, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks her over, just to assess. She's sassy as hell, doesn't take being a goddamn science genius to figure that out, but then again, so is he most of the time so he kind of has to respect that. "Anyway, you're trying to say that I'm the bad guy here because I've got tattoos and a bucket? That is some backward ass thinking right there, I'd be offended if I like, cared more or whatever."

He's used to judgment for his tattoos but he's pretty sure this is all just a smokescreen this girl's trying to put off to throw him off her shady as hell scent. He respects that, too, at least until she peeks into the bucket to see Seymour and freaks out like the little guy is fucking Godzilla trying to take over the city or something.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He stands from the bench again, stepping in front of the bucket and holding his arms out at the side like a human shield because he'll be damned if he lets this random stalker girl bust out a weapon on his skin louse. "Step away from the parasite, miss, and hell yes, I named it. What, you've never named anything before? I called my bed back home 'Beduardo' and my bongo set 'Alan' because I had a friend named Alan once, and he was cool. Doesn't matter, point is... I don't even know what the point is, I'm all riled up now."