It does sound odd. Light, fluted laughter doesn't seem to fit out here; hearing it is jarring, and Warsman finds himself inclined to read something else into it just to make it cohere. Sadness? A little hysteria? Maybe nerves, after that encounter. The situation is funny in the same way that their caring is funny.

Glancing sideways at her he sees her expression change- harden, then soften again- and then she laughs again. That little flash speaks volumes even to him. He's never been able to put up a positive front, he's too naturally inclined to be melancholic, but he can imagine that Eponine is what it might look and sound like. The thought catches unpleasantly, tugs, but at the same time he can't help but feel privileged to hear her share her past, even in little snippets.

"I can imagine something like it. In Leningrad it's bitterly cold in the winter; I didn't really have a home, so I mostly slept rough. My body manages heat better than a human's, though." Than a human's. She's almost certainly worked out that he isn't human by now, but even so... "If it's money you need, I might have something. And it's fine about Hattie, by the way. I have a bad feeling she'd do exactly that," he added with a short sigh. He does like her- he does- but that doesn't mean he has to like everything she does.