[ Looking at him, Lighter would believe that. It's not just effort that carves out a bearing like that — it's necessity. It's years of fighting your way to the top, though he'd hesitate to assign his scars to the ring. No, those came before. Probably much like his. But he's not so forthcoming with those silhouetted details, expression setting at a downturn. ]

Makes me dizzy. [ He admits, which sounds a little silly for a guy who looks like he does, but he figures if he should be honest about anything, it's his poor tolerance for certain liquids. ] There's not a lot of tea where I come from either, though.

[ High-brow foods and drinks don't tend to show up in the Outer Ring all that often, and even when they do, the quantities leave something to be desired. It's without much fanfare that he accepts the clothes, thinking better of refusing because them — what's the alternative? Stay naked? No, thanks. He notes it for later, keeping tabs on who he owes what. He's not keen on being indebted five times over. He slips into the pants first and then finally climbs to his feet, gratefully shoving the t-shirt over sun-loved scars. ]

I'm guessing this place does these little mix-ups to facilitate the whole card exchange thing. Haven't they ever heard of speed dating?

[ ^guy who has never regular dated let alone speed dated ]