"Sure, but you might want to tone it down so you don't get the crap beat out of you," he said with a shrug. And yes, he couldn't understand, because he did stand out, but they might hate him, but he was more powerful than any of those fuckers.
"Another person? Do tell," he said, before reaching over Peter's lap to grab his shoe and put out the cigarette on the sole of the shoe. "Using your pants for that? You can get burned. Are you sure you're not a masochist?"
He left the butt on the tiny night stand and sat back up. "Olivia didn't confess anything. She touched my head and all of a sudden memories came rushing back, like I was supposed to know all of that, but I had forgotten. That's the extent of our conversation, or lack thereof." He snorted. "Did you seriously expect her to say anything of value?"