"Almost as well as they'll cruuuuuush--Y'DID NOT--your heaaaaaaaad..." Tycho, sadly, has nothing to throw at Wedge, so he has to content himself with a yelling interlude in the middle of his composition.
"I didn't realize smashball involved getting rip-roaring drunk and waking up half the bar," Iella says, unimpressed, but her hand is gentle when she takes Wedge's, and they might as well be the only people in the galaxy, much less the hallway. "We're going to have to get you some ice," she murmurs, shaking her head softly.
Given that Iella was just being far kinder to him than she had to be, had any right to be, and he chose to ignore her in favor of trying to kick Tycho?
Wedge gets absolutely no sympathy.
She settles both hands on her hips this time, and she watches him topple over without so much as a twitch.
Tycho is attempting to snicker at Wedge's misfortunes and sing at the same time. It's not working out well for him. Clearly, the solution is to turn up the volume!
"SKULLCR- HEADSM- WHATEVER THEIR KRIFF'N NAME IIIIIS, THEY SHOULD'VE WOOOOON THE TOURNAMAMEEEENT..."
The sound of Wedge toppling over is quite impressive.
And so is the look on Winter's face as she comes and stands next to Iella. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, hands on her hips, brow furrowed. Utter look of shock-slash-amusement-slash-incredulous.
"What the kriff have they been doing?" Winter asks, looking over at Iella, eyebrows raised. "Did they drink the bar dry? And...what are you singing, Tycho? It's dreadful. Stop."
Tycho grins brightly up at her, not minding in the least as it tugs the lovely bruise on the side of his face. "No s'not. 'S a beautiful comp'sition. A Celchu 'riginal." Pause. "Where'd you come from?"
"They," says Iella, looking very disapprovingly down at them at Winter's side, "have apparently been beating the hell out of each other at smashball and drinking the bar dry, yes."
"Just the good parts." Wedge protests from the floor. "We left th'Earth beers t'th'... Earthians." He finally settles on calling them. Stupid name for a planet anyway.
She winces at the bruise, then steps up and not so gingerly pokes a finger into it. "You." She says, to both of them. "Are a bunch of dumb nerfherders."
Tycho yelps in pain and sits up fast (and is rather impressed with himself for being able to do it), raising a hand to his injured face. "Ow. That wasn' nice," he informs Winter indignantly. "Abuse!"
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"Playin' smashball. I won." Though, honestly, he doesn't quite remember what the final score was. It's just more fun saying you have won.
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And he promptly falls over on his side.
Filthy Hutteese cursing drowns out Tycho's... unique contribution to smashball fight songs. Evidently he's got brusies on that side.
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Wedge gets absolutely no sympathy.
She settles both hands on her hips this time, and she watches him topple over without so much as a twitch.
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"SKULLCR- HEADSM- WHATEVER THEIR KRIFF'N NAME IIIIIS, THEY SHOULD'VE WOOOOON THE TOURNAMAMEEEENT..."
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And so is the look on Winter's face as she comes and stands next to Iella. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, hands on her hips, brow furrowed. Utter look of shock-slash-amusement-slash-incredulous.
"What the kriff have they been doing?" Winter asks, looking over at Iella, eyebrows raised. "Did they drink the bar dry? And...what are you singing, Tycho? It's dreadful. Stop."
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Possibly, she is ignoring Wedge. And Tycho.
But mostly Wedge.
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He points a finger at Winter that keeps wavering off-target.
"Gitcher own XO t'torture."
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Standing she glances over at Iella. "Nice shirt."
Hands are back on hip. Appraising glares at both mensfolk. "See, Iella. This is why we have WHAM."
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