And hangs there, evidently. After a few unsuccessful jerks and twitches, the bright red yo-yo swings idly over the pizza. "Well. That didn't work." Dear me. The rafters have developed a London accent.
"Fairly quiet, here." Ace is highly specific with her language. "Meetin' new people, catching up on gossip, that sort of thing. Oh, managed t'not get m'self arrested last night."
"Either slitting the throat of or castrating one very small annoying horse-person thing. Seriously. Has there been some rule enacted that 'bugger off' now means 'please, come over here and make asine comments?" Ace grouses, swinging her yo-yo contemplatively.
"It's a... centaur, I guess, but I always thought they were bigger than three feet. Really, really annoying. Anyway. He is still in one piece, no thanks to himself." Ace shrugs. "Trounced an army bloke in football, that was more fun."
"'Course I play football. S'either that or rugby, in Perivale, an' as much as I enjoy a good brawl, football means I can have my victory and be hale enough to enjoy it, at the end of the day."
Alright.
So she plays rugby too.
Just... with decidedly less skill.
It doesn't help when you're small enough to be picked up and carried across the opponent's goal line.
Ace scowls slightly and flicks the yo-yo in her direction. Of course, with that much string in between hand and yo-yo, it's more of a lazy swing. "Football. S'not my fault you Americans can't get it right."
Da-dum.
Da-dum da-dum da-dum dadumdadumdadum...
It is the yo-yo what strikes from above!
...
And hangs there, evidently. After a few unsuccessful jerks and twitches, the bright red yo-yo swings idly over the pizza.
"Well. That didn't work." Dear me. The rafters have developed a London accent.
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"Hey, Sparky."
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"Hullo Mel. How goes?" Honestly. You'd think it'd be an in-bar priority to keep this girl from getting bored.
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"What didn't you get arrested for?"
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Alright.
So she plays rugby too.
Just... with decidedly less skill.
It doesn't help when you're small enough to be picked up and carried across the opponent's goal line.
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"Soccer?" Mel hazards.
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"Football. S'not my fault you Americans can't get it right."
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She's not going to share the bulk of her conversation, because that's not really Ace's business, but it's enough that she likes him.
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