[Good thing dive bars still exist in this weird-ass 80s glam reality. Wade takes a moment to get an eyeful of the place as Travis leads him to an empty table-- it's a little more neon than what he's used to, but the ambiance and the clientele is about right. Reminds him of those little hole-in-the-wall places he used to frequent back home-- the ones with cutesy names like The Dirty Habit or Lost Weekend or Threadbare Excuse.

He's brought back to the present when Travis starts his apology, and for a second it should be very obvious from Wade's expression that he has no idea what this dude is talking about.]

Uhhh... sorry, was I supposed to be mad at that, or something? If anything, you should be the one who's butthurt-- pretty sure I handed you your ass on a platter back there.

[He flashes him a grin.]

Nah, I'm just messin'-- you weren't half bad. Kinda made it feel more like home. Plus it was fun fightin' someone with a healthy love of bloodshed, I gotta say. Which I'm gonna blame on the... drugs, I'm guessing? The fuck kinda place just tosses around psychotropic powder like that?

[Probably a place similar to the one you were just plucked from, Wade.]