"I got it," he grinds out. This guy doesn't let up. Of course, Ghoul's misunderstanding him this time. He's taking what could be considered a general warning as a direct threat, and it's making his skin feel prickly with aggression again.

He can't get in to a street brawl within the first few hours of being in the city, though. Accommodations for him have been arranged based on the word of a friend, and if he throws down right here and now, not only will he make his friend back home look like an unreliable jackass who keeps poor company, but he understands that he may also fuck up his foster-pack's inner-city relationships. He's trying to be responsible here.

He's trying real, real hard.

Ghoul pulls in a breath. He can totally iron this out. "Listen. Okay? I only wanna get to where I'm supposed to be. Ain't even stayin' in this area, so just chill out with the top-dog shit and you'll have your space back." He gestures broadly at the surrounding area with his arm at that last part (because Party must be feeling territorial or something), nearly swatting a random passerby in the face. Ghoul's not sure what half of the curse words that come out of the man's mouth even mean, but he shoots back an equally angry sounding, "Fuckin' sorry, dick!"

This, too, is definitely Red's fault. He's causing all sorts of problems for Ghoul.