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Frozen peas work great on black eyes. Not on a black eye, Pryde. On black eyes, plural, not singular. That's why I read it that way. Git.
Dead on the floor, you said? Fair deuce, then. I wouldn't have to take plasma pot shots at him before he even reached me, and I shouldn't even be thinking about that anyway. That's rubbish, and it's not as though he's a horrible person that I need to be wary of.
Now you're less angry. Good. We can go back to our regularly scheduled lurking. Don't leave fires on every streetcorner, hm?