[Ah. So that's why, he guesses. After a moment during which he takes her words in, he straightens up - chest puffed out, the illusion of a slouch maintained only by the curve of his neck as he looks down on her.

For once, he doesn't look mocking, or smug, or irritated, but dead serious.]

Alright. Listen up. Think whatever you want of me, I couldn't possibly care less - but I'm gonna tell you this:

I might be a lot of things, but I'm not a fucking lowlife who needs to force himself on ladies. As far as I'm concerned? If you don't wanna fuck, then we're not fucking.

But I guess [a sneer.] you might feel like you have no choice. Which, by the way, isn't my fault! But that's why you're trying to make this into a little fight, right? To hold on to your dignity or your honour or something like that?

Welp, if it's a fight you want, I'll give you one. Come on, come on. Ladies first.