Rising up in the Barrel had meant strength and power and hiding the pain and doing whatever he had to so he had the respect of others. Now he's facing starting all over again, in a world that isn't the Barrel. It isn't showing itself to be as cutthroat as the gangs where he had made his name. It's a new game, a new place to make his name, and he's already working hard to adapt to what he has to do so he can find his footing.

Figuratively. Literally he's going to have to suffer on that bad leg for a while.

He rolls his eyes at that. "Why do people choose to live in this climate? There is a reason port cities draw people in, both to live there and tourism."

Making a face as he shakes his head. "Not long at all. You?"

He's used to a world where some were considered one type of citizen and others not the same. There it was those of the Barrel, from gangs to merchers, and the marks that come to the barrel for fun and games and thrills. He knows here its the Summoned and the locals and he has to walk that line carefully until he learns the rules.