Peevish for a variety of reasons Hercules has nothing to do with, Dixon bristles at being befriended so easily. He's been reclusive lately, paranoid, certain that he's lost the good favor of just about everyone in the group. Hercules looks less like a stranger to him than just another person to disappoint and offend down the line.

But, in the same vein, Dixon can't really afford to keep alienating people, and so he relaxes a bit.

"Dixon." He takes Hercules' hand and shakes it. He's got a good handshake, but it's nothing on a guy who looks like he eats whole Wheaties factories for breakfast.

"Anyway, the rest of the folks here say this is Philadelphia, which I always knew was overrated." He'd never been, but he was pretty sure a big northern city was probably overrated. "No use going through the stores unless you got a real interest in bags for chicks and a thousand copies of that one kid's book. Neverending Stories."