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It didn't seem to matter how hard Finn managed to hit his opponent, because Jordan, obviously a much more seasoned fighter than the moon hunter, only seemed to come back twice as strong each time. Still, it seemed a fairly good match up, all in all, so far. In fact, Finn was almost proud of himself for even managing to land a single blow, as out of practice as he'd been, these past....oh, several months bordering on a solid year.

"So, how'd you get out of having a personal cheering section?" He asked, deciding he might as well make conversation with the man that was kicking his a**, the question grunted out after another particularly strong swing that Finn had barely managed to hold his own against, his lance coming around and in for another quick jab.

HP: 20
Damage: 4

"NEVER," Iskander bellowed back, because, well. A lot of things had changed since he'd become seventeen, but at the same time, the old aspects of Ian were still buried deep inside of him and that was hard to change, even if he didn't remember them.

He glanced over at Ripley. "Well, yes, that's true, but you wouldn't want me to go back, would you? That'd be tragic."

This was accompanied by a puppy dog eye look that was ninety-nine percent fake. Iskander couldn't quite hide the mischief in his eyes, ever present.

"Look, I think you're encouraging him. He's kickin' a**."

"Yes," said Iskander, giving Ripley a pointed look. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't that good at expressing himself, except when it came to Finn (things he had learned since staying with them), but he was determined, at the very least, to make his presence memorable without being intrusive.

He grinned at Ripley. "Besides, you'd miss me if I was gone. And does that mean I get to have a shot too? Breaking out the whiskey seems a great idea."

Even if Finn lost. Which Iskander sort of hoped he wouldn't, for the whiskey's sake.

Oliver quietly migrated over to where Ripley had arrived, and unlike Iskander, tried his hardest not to be a source of distraction. It was a bit awkward for the freckled young man, he had been off island for awhile and then holed up in the labs awhile longer, but he still desired the company of friends in a quiet way.

Not only did Finn want a drink, he really felt like it was time for a smoke as well. He’d forgotten how much stronger shields got over time, and this match up was actually seeming to take an awful long time.

Or maybe that was just him.

He let out a non-committal grunt and shrugged his shoulders. “Not nearly as ******** fun as marriage. Not quite sure what I was thinking, bringing that little s**t head home.”

He was definitely saying that loud enough for his “kid” to hear.

Finn didn’t let his weapon be deflected for long, bringing it back around and down in a hasty swipe.

HP: 19
Damage: 7

Really, Iskander wasn’t that bad, but instead of saying so, Finn just replied with “That’s putting it mildly.” In a dry tone.

And then he was laying on his back on the ground, wondering what ******** train just hit him.

“Fuuuuuck me.” He continues to lay there. “Go on, finish me off. I need a drink.”


HP: 5
Damage: 0

"Get your a** up off the ground, Finn! You aren't done yet." Peyton didn't sound amused.

Jordan shrugged. "My apologies," he said cheerfully, and swung lazily, a bare tap rather than a serious attack. A little more seriously, he said, "We're on the same side, after all. Friendly matches are hardly the same as being in the field."

HP: 25
Dmg: 1 :T