[ Being as culturally sensitive as you'd expect from a white dude from the 1920s, the bow really throws him off, and he just kind of stares incredulously for a moment, unsure of how to return the gesture. So he just kind of... doesn't... ]

Yeah, it's no problem. Well, the necklace, at least. The rest of that is more of a problem, but...

[ First thing's first. He smiles more genially, motioning vaguely. ] No need to call me "sir," ma'am. Call me Roy. Roy Thorton.

[ He knows his name has some level of notoriety, since he's escaped from prison, but also, considering the situation... He's not sure if he should stick with the story he'd told that small town about being a newspaper reporter or not. He decides to stick with it, just in case this happens to be connected. ]