"I deserve three cakes. I've stopped the Apocalypse." A beat. "Twice. That's at least three cake worthy."

He turns when he feels that bump against his shoulder and tilts his head a little. Yeah, he supposed he could use someone to drink with around here. "Number Five," he cuts his eyes over to him. "Yes, I'm serious, but you can just call me Five," and then he shakes the hand offered to him, very business-like.