The new nickname goes unrecognized, although where he outright ignored the first one this one gains a response, even if it's little more than a murmur. "Keirsey?" It's a name he's unfamiliar with; Myers-Briggs he knows, was all too familiar with in his youth. He preferred that one to the others; while he finds a strange calm from the one he took his name from now, he disliked it then, disconcerted by its fluidities and uncertainties. There was no right answer, only shades of grey selected at random and then interpreted as something bigger, more meaningful. Very unsettling. Now he understands it and can see the poetry, but not so then. Keirsey, though. He assumes it's a test, but he doesn't know it; he doesn't make a point to keep up on the latest developments.

No matter. He's not particularly interested anyway. He has things to do, places to be. Vampires to find. "Will try," he replies dryly, humorlessly, then ends the transmission, having nothing else to add or seek.