(Untitled)

[dr_sarcasm]

Look! In the corner booth! What IS THAT?? It's so... extraordinary! How many of the bar patrons have seen anything that looks remotely like THAT???

Well, whatever the bloody thing is, it's not Ton. He's not in the corner booth. He's over by the fireplace playing some sort of game on his datapad, eyebrow creased in concentration, and a very, very

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[fighter__pilot]

Surely Ton isn't actually as involved as he appears. And it obviously won't mess him up too much if Shalla throws a napkin at his datapad.

Right?

[dr_sarcasm]

Of course not. That's why, initially, an expression of sheer terror flashes across Ton's face while he can't see the screen. Once the moment passes, Ton spends a loooooooooooong moment glaring at the napkin. Finally, he dumps it unceremoniously off his datapad and looks around for the perpetrator.

[fighter__pilot]

Perpetrator? What perpetrator? The only person who has the right angle is Shalla, and she's totally minding her own business over there on the couch. Plus, she'd never mess with a fellow Wraith.

Really.

[dr_sarcasm]

Ton stares at her for a moment, then picks up the napkin with two fingers and holds it at arms length. He actually has to get up. This displeases the once-comfortable cyborg, who now has to put actual effort into this.

"This, I take it belongs to you?" He drops it on Shalla's head. Which for most people, might be suicide--'cept for the part where Ton's already, y'know... dead.