It was supremely weird to hear Faith talking with an English accent, and this startled him more than the physical contact he'd struck up between the two. "Oh my, seems you've acquired even more talents over the years." He nodded an acknowledgment of her appraisal of his outward looks. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd become less 'up tight' but he was aware that he'd changed a bit. It had simply...suited his outlook and methods better. Or something. He'd never been fond of self-analyzing. Probably because his father had mandated he undergo therapy during his teen years. Waste of time and money.
"I'm ...ah, scruffy," he finally admitted with a very small wry grin. "Suits me...more than the suits." Wes raised both of his eyebrows in amusement at his declaration. As Faith ordered her drink, Wesley tilted his head to her and then said, "I'll take a beer. Whatever's on tap and cheap." The bartender worked on making those drinks happen. Not that either took a ton of works. Still, he managed to take his good ol' time before placing the drinks in front of them on the bare counter top, condensation dripping down.
Wesley noted dryly that, "Spike's club doesn't even spring for tiny drink napkins, hum? How very...appropriate." He knew the bartender had heard him, and he simply raised his glass and said, "Cheers". With his own skills, and a Slayer by his side - he really wasn't afraid of much.
"So, aside from the shampoo, what else would you put in the 'good' category, Faith?"