Aleifr doesn't budge. He simply looks down at Mac, singularly unamused ... though it's difficult to tell if he's actually annoyed with the smaller man, or that's just the way that his face sits.

"No, I can't." He agrees. "Because I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

'Plastic' is still a novel concept to him, Mac. Roller derby's a bit out of his depth.

Still ... he uncrosses his arms. Posture not quite as closed as it was before.