"Yes, actually. That doesn't change no matter the species." He leans in to speak a little lower and not scare everyone else around him. Or he tries to. However successful he is, he cares but in a vague detached way. He'll apologize later. "Most races have about the same weaknesses. You can take someone out with two cuts to the legs if you time it right." He'd survived the arena by learning the fastest ways to take out bigger and nastier opponents.

"My best used to be my hand." He taps his metal hand and flexes the fingers. No deadly hum or purple light. Probably for the best. He'd hate to ruin the bartop. "Then we ended up here and it can't activate properly. Lances and Two handed swords now. Not so bad. I still can touch the sky. Pilots need that." If he couldn't touch the sky he'd have an issue with this place. ...he could endure but he'd hate it.

Shiro glances at the bartender. There's no way they're getting more alcohol. He helpfully stacks the shot glasses so the man can take them away with little fuss.