Giovanni barks out a dry little laugh, a sound like the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. Shrugs his shoulders.

"Suit yourself, I suppose. We all have different ideas of what constitutes a good time," because imagining it is already something that stokes the blood, makes the thing in his Spine scrabble and pant, something faint but no less attended to for it. It's what he'd wanted to begin with, after all, a touch of violence. Some familiarity in an unfamiliar place.

It's a little hard to habour concerns over physical threats when one was designed for endurance.

Still. There's a part of him that supposes underestimation here would be a dangerous thing-- so far the simulation has proved flawless, good enough to trick even his heightened senses and as such what's to say that it hasn't been calibrated with his particular genetic advantages in mind? Or that, being a simulation, they wouldn't carry over into a place like this? However--

"Fun or no, it still seems the soundest tactic from where I'm standing. I wasn't made for negotiation, hahah."