Jim Hunter
Active Attendee
Human. Don't mess.
Posts: 110
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“I have to say kiddo, I’m not impressed. Four matches, four losses. If I wanted stats like that I’d have followed a blind Ferengi around the place instead of you. I know you’re an idiot but surely you can master swinging a bit piece of metal around and hitting someone with it.”
French, as usual was having fun at Hunter’s expense. Her remarks though unkind in script, were delivered with a tongue-in-cheek tone both pilots knew well, because both were fond of using it whilst addressing the other.
“And if I wanted a trainer who was about as inspirational as watching someone drown in bloodwine, I’d have called…” he paused for effect, faking confusion. “Well, you actually. But I didn’t, because I want a trainer who not only shows up before tournaments begin and actually trains me, but I want someone who can inspire me, and drive me on to better things.”
Lizzie laughed into her coffee. “I thought groupies were for wimps – isn’t that what you used to say?”
Hunter nodded. “It was.”
“But not now?”
“Not now, I mean yes now. Yes they are.” He nodded again. “Don’t like groupies.”
“Well then shut your mouth and drink your XL-Super-drink-athon or whatever it is you bought off that tender.”
Hunter held up the thick blue substance, which stretched how far the word liquid could be used in describing something. “It’s an all-natural, amino-acidic, Bajoran wildberry and raktajino extract with bio-fluidic tauri toxins and synthetic myoxides.”
The couple sat in silence considering the description. French broke the silence.
“How can something be all-natural but have synthetic myoxides?”
His lipped shaped comically around a thick straw, Hunter paused his attempts to defy gravity. “I ‘on’t ‘ow,” he mumbled.
“Think there’s any possibility a Denobulan trader, only here for the tournament and entailing business opportunities might have sold you a litre of Arkellian guano and food colouring that though improving the efficiency of your digestive system, will do nothing to combat loss of stamina or aid your strength?” She smiled widely as she considered the option.
Hunter slowly withdrew the straw from his mouth and placed the large container on the table. “I suppose,” he ventured, “it’s possible.”
Lizzie gave off a cruel laugh as she stood. “I’ll get you a real raktajino.”
“I don’t like coffee,” protested Hunter but a sharp hand gesture flashed over French’s departing shoulder silenced him. For all her education and upbringing, Elisabeth was no lady.
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How to inspire a comeback... or not (Read 353 times)
