"I believe our friend may have mistaken the bar for a brothel." Really, now that Rokuro knows what the 'problem' is, he's far more comfortable. Classless bastards are a yen a dozen where he's from, and they don't appear to be in any shorter supply here.

"I am not for sale, and neither is my companion." He hasn't missed the way that buff woman has been eyeing the clone, now that it's been brought to his attention.

"If you would like our attention, you must come by it honestly. Anyone can buy a man a drink." Leaning back in his chair, folding one long (mostly bare) leg over another, Rokuro knows exactly which of his assets are on display and how they might be utilized. He may not understand these clumsy modern courting rituals, but he wasn't born yesterday.

"We shall play a game. If we win, you pay for our drinks and a round of drinks for everyone else, to make up for the scene you have caused. If you win... you will have our company for the rest of the night. We will drink with you, entertain you, and 'earn' our drinks accordingly. Clothed. The 'goggles' are off the table, so to speak."

Can a one-eyed man bat his eyelashes? Very well, actually. Quality over quantity.