[ He slaps a hand down to catch the card against the table as it comes sliding his way, and Fuuta gives a dismissive little sniff as he flips it over. ]

I bet it's not even a big deal anyway. [ Then reads it. Blinks. ] -- oh.

[ Pause. ]

Really? [ Huh. The guy looks fine? Maybe he's a pain to deal with, or something.

Though, sorry Gregor, even that doesn't earn you any immediate sympathy. Fuuta gives a little 'hmph' as he sets the card back aside, face-down, then leans up to start fetching his own card. It's only after he's starting making progress on that front that he speaks up again, as brusque as ever: ]

Whatever. It's not a big deal. And it's weird when guys make a big deal about that, anyway. [ He says, when he was (and still is) just as self-conscious and flustered about those sorts of matters himself. ] Besides, that'll probably change pretty soon now that you're stuck here, so. Whatever.