Sauced-up teenage punk? That's the most offensive Dearing's ever gotten with her address, and he can't help but feel tickled pink that he's reduced her to this instead of offended, even if it's a dangerously close call. "Dearing," he says, voice heavy with mock disappointment as he takes a dainty bite of his cake. "Aren't you all about cultural acceptance?" He flicks his fingers at her, frosting and all. "That's terribly narrow-minded of you."

And oh, she's embarrassed, is she? Rico's starting to catch on. It's not his fault she has such offensively boring sensibilities, but if she's so bothered about his exposed skin...

"And just so you know, this is an extremely high quality garment," he says as he smoothes a hand over his jacket. "Gitt is a big name in the fashion industry. You know how many creds this would cost? The jacket alone would be eighty thousand." He picks up one end of his tie and throws it over his shoulder, pointedly exposing what little of his chest it was covering. "And this tie was hand-made in the Milano Enclave."