["Picked up" means he's scrappy. The kind of frantic, reactionary fighting that works in a pinch because it's fueled by blind panic, but it's not the sort of style that has any definitive mastery to it, and that's fine.]

Everyone starts somewhere.

[He says with a shrug, not usually given to aphorisms. It seems fitting here, with circumstances as they are. Nate's gaze slants sideways, looking Lance over as they walk, and he sucks in a dramatic breath that flirts with amusement. It's mostly in his eyes.]

...I can't really see you glassing a guy in a dive, but since I doubt that's the kind of place you frequent we can concentrate on things that are a little more structured than what you know. Like boxing, but...y'know, the kind of boxing you'd use in prison.