Pete Wisdom was having one hell of a day. Not only had he been at work while nursing one mother of a hangover from last night's binger at the pub? But the last thing he remembered of Earth - his Earth - was that he was sucked up into the big blue flashy of raging pain and pretty much spewed out on another planet with a wicked headache, a cramp in his guts that wouldn't quit, and a chip on both shoulders.
Sure, after the dust settled, it was nice to actually get some hair of the dog in him from a few drinks, and then try to eat half of a...he supposed that was a cow? If it wasn't, then he wasn't about to go ask specifics.
At any rate, it wasn't too dumb of Gwen either to have fallen over, since Pete was busy giving himself yet another vicious pat down of his suit pockets, for one of his 'emergency cigarettes' that he kept for times like this. Oh, you know? Times like when one gets shot out onto another bloody planet, entirely.
He had stumbled when he was bumped into and yelled out a "Oi, you!" as he saw her falling. He wasn't fast enough to catch her, probably because he had both hands shoved into his trouser pockets. Ooops. He removed those, so he could help her up.
"Bloody hell," Pete grumbled. "If you're still hungry, I doubt you have to resort to falling over me an' gnawing on the pavement. Did you chip a tooth or summat?"