“Travis’ mouth fell open. “Oh, hell no. Are you trying to get me killed? You’ve gotta change, Pidge.”“What?” “Get a t-shirt on…and some sneakers. Something comfortable.”“What? Why?”“Because I’ll be more worried about who’s looking at your tits in that shirt instead of Hoffman,” he said, stopping at his door.“I thought you said you didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought?”“That’s a different scenario, Pigeon.” Travis looked down at my chest and then up at me. “You can’t wear this to the fight, so please…just…please just change,” he stuttered, shoving me into the room and shutting me in.”