[sounds like a mirror, albeit quieter with less words. he said those same words months ago, snarled back in anyone's face who attempted to warn him about the payments. what a surprise someone else new has the same damn reaction.]

Che. I said the same thing.

[reality's a bitch and he fucking hates it plenty. without knowing if this guy's been around for a few days or is drinking off the first hours of his existence, it's not his problem to coach him in results. even now, wheels spin behind those dark eyes. he rejects it with a defensive dismissal, but he's thinking about it all the same. good, someone who takes a warning seriously rather than recklessly charging into the unknown. he'd been the same, dismissive, but listening...

turning back to the casino, he leaves his focus on other people, brows furrowed above a face radiating "don't fuck with me" vibes to anyone who might be looking for some fun. bristly ass wallflower, this one.]

Depends on your suit. They all end up screwing with your head and body, making you go crazy until you fuck around with someone.

[that's the nice way to put it, each suit has its own preference. he's disgusted with his own: spades. as for the other question-]

Getting wasted's for losers.