That makes Wolfwood laugh, too, but his is friendly, amused. Light-hearted, even.

"My constant companion," he says, patting the cloth fondly. "And a tool of the trade."

Reaching into a breast pocket, he pulls out a battered pack of cigarettes, lights one crumpled one with a match that he shakes out into smoke. "You never know when you might need to offer a little of the Lord's gospel to a soul in distress. My name's Wolfwood, by the way. And I think you and I are going to be traveling together in the very near future."

That could be metaphorical. He's never totally sure.