Kruger. Obviously a fake name, but the kid isn't even attempting to hide it. That takes a certain kind of brass Midnighter can respect. He nods at 'Kruger' and dismounts, kicking up a cloud of sand in the process. His horse nickers and sighs, tired, trotting idly toward the well.

"Midnighter," he says, with none of Kruger's hesitance. Midnighter is who he is, what he is, everything. To put a point on it, he finally removes the cloth around his face, shaking some of the dust and blood out of it.

"You don't kill, do you?" It's not judgement, just curiosity. Murder isn't for everybody. That's why it's murder.