Nate's seen the fight clubs around, but he's never attended one. He can hold his own in a fight, and he'd proven that plenty of times back home, but Darrow is something else entirely. The people who go to those things are literal goddamn superheroes, people from other worlds, people with magic, people with the ability to pulverise Nate in minutes. Sure, he can throw a punch, but he's only human.

He learned that well enough when he tried to punch Cassius, and landed on his ass a whole lot quicker than his pride will let him admit.

Nate shakes his head, watching Sam reload. "Wasn't too long ago I got my face all messed up, remember?" He screws up his nose in annoyance. "And that wasn't even Fight Club." It stands to reason that he could just not go picking fights with people ten times his size, maybe, but that almost takes half the fun out of it. Nate's spent more or less his entire life picking fights he shouldn't.

So has Sam, so maybe they should give it a go. At least then they'll be able to keep an eye out for each other, run interference if it looks like one of them is about to get his brain kicked in. "We could check it out," he offers, shrugging one shoulder. Generally speaking, Nate's fought to keep himself alive, not because he's the kind of guy who's into brawling. He can't deny the adrenaline rush though, and he could do with an outlet, some way to blow off the frustrations of this city. "Might as well see if there's anyone human-sized."