The frown on his face as James shook her hand didn't go unnoticed by Vander, and the second the introduction was done, she pulled it back. She placed both hands in her lap, hiding them from view. Partly out of a slight embarrassment, but mostly because she didn't need to make James uncomfortable. She wanted a conversation, and that wouldn't happen if she scared him off by being a walking skeleton. 

She was about to speak up again when a voice from behind interrupted. She smirked slightly at the 'bless you', turning around to face the fighter from earlier. He had a bottle in his hand, and seemed to be looking for conflict. Half of it was drained before he spoke again, this time to James. “You lost little boy? From the way that you were lookin’ at me earlier, I might be able to direct you to a gay bar down the road a ways…”

She opened her mouth to intervene. Half the people in the club had probably been eying Deon up that evening, male and female alike. She could have argued the pointlessness of picking a fight with any one particular person...but before she could speak, James was already handling the situation. He defended himself simply, brushing Deon off without hesitation. Simultaneously, he offered Vander a drink. With her headache continuing to grow, she wasn't about to turn it down. "I'll take a hurricane," she told the bartender. Moments later, a glass of something dark, red, and laden with alcohol arrived. 

The conversation was continued, with James asking her what had brought her to The Spit. She was all too aware of the fact that the fighter hadn't left. It was definitely James' first time, or else he might not have brushed off a drunk ring brawler so easily. Nevertheless, she answered his question. "Pzypialkowski," she repeated, saying it slightly slower. "Don't bother trying, I couldn't spell my own last name until I was nine."

She took a large sip of her drink, the alcohol providing a more comforting pain in her throat than the pain everywhere else in her body. What did bring her here today? Well...there were all the honest answers. She was looking for a dealer. She was looking for a distraction. She was looking for a fun time. Instead, she shrugged easily. "I like talking to people. Everyone's got an interesting story, and I like to hear 'em," she answered. It was as honest as any of the others. "What clubs do you usually go to? Higher Districts, I'd guess..."