Faith smirks as Damon proclaims himself criminal -- she can definitely appreciate the word choice, there. Her movements are slow and smooth, even as one necessarily hand follows the other toward the bag. The rings stretch far enough that she manages to get a handful out with one hand, before both travel back to her.

"Thanks." Palm up at her chin, Faith's tongue darts out and back in, a few little kernels of buttery goodness crunching then as she chews. Around the food, she decides to brush off Damon's proclamation of her interesting-ness: "Just got here's all."

Again, more kernels stick to her tongue and she chews languidly; you'd think she'd be sick of popcorn, considering it's what she practically lived off of for a good stretch of her teenage life. But the company's certainly entertaining. The way Damon talks seems flippant and unconcerned with the fact that she doesn't look sociable, exactly. Something strikes her and she decides to be a little more chatty than she might otherwise choose.

"Heading to solitary, turned to get my jewelry off and here I was. Can't exactly complain..."