Pleasure, Saturday. [He shakes her hand, and tilts his head a little in surprise at how much like a real human hand it feels like. Then he withdraws, looking a bit sheepish, and grabs another towel for her; she's likely got a little of his blood and a lot of his sweat on her now.] Sorry, ripped up my hands some on the bars. I assume you two know each other?

[He takes the bat from Guts and gives it a loving pat. It tried, the poor thing. It just can't hold up to the one he has back home.]

Sure, I could use a souvenir. Guts, that was an honor.