"Well, this is a arena. Fighting is pretty much to be expected. While you don't have to accept every challenge thrown at you, you're supposed to fight at least once a week, otherwise your privileges here will be taken away." Greed explained to the man, then walked behind the bar counter, fetching himself another rootbeer before walking back. Hardening the skin of his thumb, Greed pushed the cap off the bottle and took a swig and looked back to Aethion, the skin of his thumb returning to normal. "I'm a Homonculus, an artificial human, created via alchemy. And, no. Never heard of this fellow. Maybe he's a new Homonculus that's been made in the last hundred or so years that I've been away from Pops. Did he have a sign like this?" Greed asked, holding up his right hand, showing the Orouboros tattoo; a red winged snake, biting its own tail.