He shifted uncomfortably at her condemnation of the men who used the pleasure mutants because she was right. They were disgusting. He was disgusting, he wouldn't lie about that. But did it make it any better that he actually liked Pixie? He didn't think of her as a whore, never had, but he'd still fucked her. Did that make him as good or worse than the others who just used her as a hole without knowing the rest?
"I don' care if I fight or not," Remy replied, silently relieved that they were off the topic of rape. "I don' care if they profit from my fights or not. I don' fight to kill. I'm not a Red or a Black an' I don' ever want to be. All I care about is gettin' off this hell hole an' goin' back to Lousiana. Or New York. Or Chicago. Or fuckin' merry ol' London. I don' care where I go so long as it ain't here. Preferably without snow," he added quickly.
"Besides, I just acquired a new owner and as far as I know, I'm de only fighter she has so I highly doubt she'll make me stop fightin' any time soon. But is dat what you do? You run out de clock if you can and force it so your owner puts you in de ring less?"