[He was ready to be told off from the moment Ain spoke up. Maybe under better conditions he'd take the same out as Wolfwood—throw out an empty apology, delay their future competition for the sake of "playing nice", maybe slip in another backhanded comment if he's feeling spicy—but Ain's words pierce him dead-on. Add bristles with sparks, drones drawn in tightly against his back like a shield. Whoever is unfortunate enough to be sitting close to him is getting hit with the worst static discharge of their life.

He's quick to contort his hurt expression into anger, face hot.]

Well sorry I don't live up to your expectations! I guess you've been fucking around here so long you forgot I don't play nice with hot-headed morons! Do you want to go grab another version of me so you can try again?!