[Guza scoffs, shifting a bit uncomfortably. Did he say something insulting? He didn't mean to - it's the truth, and he...may be a bit cranky from having his teeth chatter together like they are. He hates this, he absolutely hates this, and wants to just punch the sun awake or whatever the hell he can do. Would throwing grease on or work? Probably not.

The questions makes him lift his head, pausing from reaching to take another draw from his jug of wassail.]

Huh? Uh...I dunno. I'm pretty big - 'bout six-foot-three, give or take, and I ain't no flabby shmuck, neither. [He's well built and stocky, with a good amount of muscle to him, though not in the way of someone like, say, Kukui. No, Guzma's more built like a wall, or a tank, than a canon (or a wrestler).] If you want my size, I wear extra-large in shirts most times, or large...

Why you asking? [He narrows his eyes, half knowing what the answer is going to be.]