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Yeah so. When the guy was done flying into stuff Reiko was already there because he didn't bother waiting aroud

His right fist was already starting to c**k back at rib level for a follow up punch....

"...."

A cloud of dust kicked up as the Greyhound bus that had just driven through Strata parted ways with the city again. In its wake, there was a young man wearing a torn up t-shirt and loose jeans, looking very much like a slacker. He had a small suitcase balanced on his head with one hand, and a few filthy smudges on his face from the desert dust.

"OI!" he shouted loudly, looking down, "THERE'S SAND ON MY SHOES!!"

"A-HEM!" the scrubby boy shouted again, in the middle of the desert road. "My SHOES have SAND on them! WHO'S FAULT IS THIS!? IS IT YOURS!!?!?!?"

He pointed a finger accusingly at the nearest bystander.

"YOUSONNOFABITCH!" And fists were flying.

Or... foots were flying.

The boy didn't wait, and simply charged blindly at the accused, his right hand still holding the handle of the suitcase that was balanced on his head. Though when he got to within a few feet, the youth pivoted on his left foot and snapped out a high side kick with his right towards the bystander.

The youth stepped to the side when he drew back his leg, bouncing on his toes like a boxer, though one arm remained upon his suitcase and the other hung limply at his side, he seemed to have no guard up at all.

"OiOI, I like these shoes. Don't be dirtyin' them up now!"

As he finished speaking the youth stepped in with his right foot, then snapped out his left from the side aimed at the inside ankle of Roland's left leg.

The kid, of course wouldn't miss something so obvious as a man standing on a chair, even if he had his back turned... which is exactly what he did. When the chair flew up, the suitcase slipped down behind Tommmy's head to hang behind his back, supported by his hand upon the handle with his wrist resting liesurely upon his shoulder.

The chair was introduced to the suitcase, and the rest was gravity.

Tommy, though, was an angry little man. When the chair struck the ground he spun clockwise and kicked it aside with his left foot so that it skittered across the floor and under a table.

"Who's a joke!?"

The boy hadn't put his foot down yet, but when Roland began to move he quickly tapped it to the ground for balance and then stepped forwards with that same foot. Unfortunately, Roland jumped, which meant that when Tommy picked up his foot again in preparation for a snap kick there was no opponent to hit.

Instead, he leaned to the right when Roland tried to kick him, completely losing his balance and falling to the side; completely avoiding Roland's second and third attacks due to absence. Tommy was falling backwards, though, and he pulled up the suitcase just enough to land it flat upon the ground beneath him, held in both hands, which he then used as a grip to pull himself over into a handstand and, eventually, back to his feet with that suitcase in hand, arms still dangling uselessly at his sides as his toes kept up the rythem.

"Float like a butterfly," Tommy muttered, the old phrase not seeming quite right, "sting like a ******** right leg slid out across the floor and his body soon followed, the left leg coming around in a roundhouse.