"Terra does that. I just tear them up." There's a sleepy wiggling of claws; they are rather sharp and it's not really a surprise. Terra just ... deals with it, the way he deals with most things.

Which is to say without complaint and as efficiently as possible so he can go do something else.

The offered hand is taken easily enough, and shook; there's no reason to not be friendly. "Where I'm from, real men aren't afraid to apologize when they know they've done something. But don't expect an apology if it's someone else's fault!" It only goes so far.

And in this, he could have been more considerate. "Masaru, then. Hello, Agumon. You two certainly looked ready to fight as soon as the door opened." Terra retrieves his map again; he still has work to do! "Would you really have fought in here? If the beds broke you'd have to sleep on the floor."

Dracmon looks up briefly, then holds up one hand. It has an eye on it. Is she just watching? "Maybe. Sometimes it's the victory that matters more than where you sleep afterwards."