"So will we be getting separate rooms?" Faelan asked, trying not to think about what had happened at the bar. "Besides, if all we have to do at an arena is kill someone to go home, we might as well go home." The joke sat flatly in the air, and even now Faelan could feel how uncomfortable about the situation was. But the fact that he'd walked in with four feet of steel designed to kill hadn't gathered any attention other than getting them into the arena itself seemed like a plus to him. Besides, they weren't even here to participate in the arena, they were here to look for someone. Getting familiar with the locals by either spending time here or killing them off seemed like a solid way to speed up the search.<br/><br/>Following the bartender, pretty soon they were separated from the masses of watchers, and he realized they were slowly getting closer to what he could imagine was the barracks. Almost as if on cue, it's when the demon decided to answer sarcastically, "You get separate floor mats, if that's enough space for you. You want better living, make the audience happy, that makes Cercy happy. Make her happy, and you'll be happy, easy enough ghost?" Faelan was really starting to hate being mistaken for a demon, but he was hardly going to point out he was human, so for once he just bit his tongue and looked around.<br/><br/>It seemed like 90% of the people here just showed up, and he could see some of them seemed to be wearing matching outfits. "What's with the people wearing the matching clothes?" He was concerned he was going to be expected to wear the same shit, he wasn't exactly siked at looking like one of the interchangeable grunts in here. The demon didn't seem to hesitates though, chipping in, "It what the fighters who survive a couple fights get to show they ain't trash like the rest of you down here."