"Wow, you're easy," she replied easily. "A guy could beat you up, but as long as they bring beer, no worries, huh?" He was cute, a bit goofy like all the guy friends she'd left behind when she moved here...friends she felt, at the time, that she couldn't replace. Maybe Dean was proof she was wrong and making a new set of friends might not be as hard as it seemed. Then again, after breaking that guy's nose, a lot Jo's friends stepped back, put distance, and she couldn't blame them really. Most didn't, but those that did? She understood why. Her actions gave her the freedom to express herself, but they also granted her an appearance she wasn't all too sure she wanted. The blond had always been tough, boyish, bold, and brash to a fault at times, but she'd never been openly so violent. She'd defended herself, joked around with her friends, but before that guy, she'd never struck out at anyone with the intention of causing pain. He was lucky; Jo was twisted enough at the time and hurt so bad that she might have just kept going. Sometimes, she'd stare into space, just remembering, pondering what it might have been like to lay into that guy, the son of a bitch that killed her dad, and not stop. She would even go as far as to wonder what it might feel like to claim a life. Still, even in her darkest moments, she was grateful someone had been there to stop her.
Dean's voice pulled Jo from her rather depressing, dark thoughts. She looked up at him with a smirk slowly growing into place on her lips. "Bring it. I was born ready to kick your ass. Let's do this," she was grinning now, a bit of excitement creeping into her voice, and her brown eyes were alight with amusement and just a bit of possible mischief in the wake. She took pride in being one of the few women that could take up a controller, along side a few of the opposite, and stand more than just a fantasy chance against them. No, Jo did not need no guy to go easy on her, walk through the controls like a toddler learning their ABC'S. Jo's hands were molded for a controller, years of practice and too many friends of the opposite sex guaranteed that as well as an expertise in noogies and mud puddle fights.
"You are going down and then you are going to get me one of my cold beers," she finished. "If I lose-" She bit her lip, thinking it over for a second before responding. None of the things that came to mind were in her favor, but bets were only supposed to favor one person, weren't they? "We'll figure it out if you do," she finally said. "Which you won't, but you know, there is like a less than 1 percent chance or something..." she trailed off, laughing a bit. That was another thing she claimed from the guys: she was the word smith with a specialty in teasing and over confident chatter. Not really over confident though because unlike most her talked big and scary, Jo truly felt confident she could back it up and then some.