"Punches and stabs, don't forget!" He smiles a bit, trying to make a joke. Jokes are hard when you're staring death and the destruction of the world in the face. "Besides, with both of us here, this year's a slam dunk!" But then he grows a toothy grin, one that looks a bit more like the feral grimace he'd have in the old days.

"We're both good enough to know that this ain't the ring." He crosses his arms in front of him, staring at Haizea in his most authoritative posture yet. "There's strength in numbers, so we keep ourselves safe and do whatever we can to keep the others alive and kicking. The more of us that make it to the Wizard, the better." Then Garrot's gaze darts towards the sea for a moment before resting at the sand between them. He's worried, but he's trying to put on an act.

"I was born before the Wizard first appeared." He breathes out through his nose, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "If I'm ready to hold my own, nobody who was born into this shit has an excuse not to be capable. Being dead weight is disrespectful to the whole planet, y'know?" But then he shrugs, because he knows the younger crowds are prone to willful ignorance. They could end up on his metaphorical operating table and already be too far gone, that's just how it goes.

"So..." Garrot's uncrossed his arms, but the toothy grin hasn't really stopped. "Wanna try and get everyone together tomorrow to see how terrible they all are in a fight?"