"Glitter, huh? Sparkly-ass bourgie dust, fresh from the plastics factory n'..." Giggles muttered on, tilting Diana's glass towards him and squinting into it before dipping a gloved finger in and touching it to his tongue. He shrugged, eyebrows raised amicably. "Not bad, though. I'm sure Borulama here can... Hang on."

Some clearly blue-collar prole who'd been nodding to the corner games finally introduced himself, and Giggles remembered why he preferred nightclubs to bars. Always some adventurer type listening over your shoulder, trying to network. 

Borulama gave his introduction as Giggles surreptitiously shouldered Marco and made 'you're messing up my business' motions. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, trying to sound hushed enough not for Borulama to hear, and distinctly failing. [i]"We're not[/i] gonna [i]meet the damn Mogul, come on, I'm tryna hustle-"[/i]

Arms dealer?

"Holy hell, [i]you're selling out?[/i] Gimmegimmegimme-" Giggles's eyes lit up and he shoved hands and bodies and drinks aside to clear a space on the table muttering something like 'hold up busyboys I got a plinker to lose'. His hand appeared on Marco's wrist as he banged his backpack on the table and started unpacking its contents. 

"Listen, are you doing stock clearance? Installments? Loans even? I got twelve hundred credits now, more on the way and I [i]really[/i] need an air plasma carbine. Let's see, I got-" Objects started to appear. "Two spike jammers, a language interface, some, I dunno, think those are octane cell batteries, uh, this apple I guess? I got some welding glasses, a metal-printed six-shot, don't look too hard at it I have standards I swear, uh..." He overturned the backpack and watched its contents fall out, all but the FAR-Cat equipment in the hidden compartment.

"Some bolts, a condom, those are dead bugs I'm pretty sure, tin-can bullets, that's from a crack pipe, some Ecetopian waterweed..." He threw his hands up. "So yeah maybe I'm broke right now, but I swear I can help you out."