[That just gets a laugh out of him. Of course she wouldn't know what tai chi is, or sensor-activated taps, let alone the frustration of not triggering said sensors.]

It's a Chinese martial art. Not-- necessarily something you would pick a fight with. It's slow and meditative and... grounding, somewhat. You might like to try it sometime, if they're having classes. [He imagines there would be some classes on board, if not tai chi then some kind of line dancing or muay thai or something fitness-related.]

We wear suits these days. Well, the classy folk do. Me, I'm working class street trash. [He's not going to undermine her experience in indentured servitude to some fat fucks, having a hand raising someone else's kid or what-have-you. But he doesn't bow down to anyone. And he doesn't think she should, either. They've left her chains behind now. That's where they should stay - left behind, in the past, and they can just keep moving forward now.]

Power belongs to the people. Not twenty cunts in bloody togas who get to make decisions for everyone else, feed you table scraps, make you grovel because it's fun, and fuck you in the arse when they're bored of breaking your spirit. [He doesn't mean to rant either, but nobody says 'fuck the authority' loud and proud like the punk rocker chaos-loving troublemaking street magician. Even if he sounds like a lunatic just striding down the corridor with his dick hanging out.]

You are a powerful image. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise, love.