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On one hand, there was no one else in the world who Babylon would rather have a playful excuse to punch in the face than Valhalla. Although his issues with the page were mostly resolved, he was curious what it would feel like to cold-clock Chris Gallo for once in his life. On the other hand, Valhalla had a good half a foot and forty pounds on Babylon and nothing short of a miracle growth spurt in the next five minutes was going to change that.

It was still good luck, though. Babylon felt better having his first match in this tournament be against a teammate than against a complete stranger. At least he knew Valhalla, he knew a bit about his style, and he knew he outranked him. Babylon knew he was at a physical disadvantage, but he wasn't feeling completely at a loss.

He found Valhalla at the designated time and place, although it seemed a bit awkward to just go up to the guy and punch him in the gut. Shouldn't they, like, shake hands and be proper gentlemen about this? It only seemed appropriate. Babylon raised a hand in greeting towards the Jovian page. "Evening, Valhalla," he greeted resolutely.

"I'll try not to break your face too badly - I owe it to Ganymede to leave you pretty for him." Not that he'd ever admit to finding Chris Gallo even remotely handsome. Even if he was. And also... not that Babylon could even easily reach Valhalla's face to break it.

Babylon quirked one of his caterpillar-esque eyebrows up towards his hairline. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he quoted, managing to both butcher Shakespeare and imply uncouth things about Valhalla and Ganymede's friendship in a single sentence. Babylon liked to think he had halfway decent gaydar, even though the opposite was more likely true. "Honestly, I'm just teasing you, Val."

If it hadn't gotten half as big a rise out of the page as it did, Babylon wouldn't have even brought it up. But the facts stood that Valhalla seemed to always get worked up when Babylon referred to Ganymede, so he was just going to stick with what worked. "I mean, I've got no interest in stealing him from you," professed the squire. Ganymede wasn't his type by a long shot, after all. For one thing, Babylon's criteria included being at least as tall as himself. It wasn't a difficult qualification to match but Ganymede somehow fell short of it.

Grinning sheepishly, the squire gestured to the ornaments he'd attached to his chest and waist. "I was enjoying our little chat," he apologized. "But if you're so keen on fighting with me then I guess we can go ahead and get this started!"

Calling his lantern to his hand, the squire took a few quick steps forward and swung for Valhalla's chest- Only to miss completely.

Babylon spun away, trying to regain his lost balance. "******** ******** ******** ********!" he exclaimed.

HP: 5
Damage: 0

And with that, the ornament tied to Babylon's waist shattered into glass dust. He resolved to stop goading Valhalla so much and take this seriously - what did it matter to him what their relationship status was? It didn't effect his life one way or another, beyond that he'd probably find it amusing for about five minutes before continuing with business as usual. "Dude, chill out," he protested, finding his footing as he retreated a few steps. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."

Well, okay... actually, he couldn't pretend like he wasn't the least bit curious. But that was hardly the point right now. Babylon hefted the lantern in his hands and sidestepped around Valhalla. "But if it makes you feel better I'll stop bringing it up." Mostly he was just worried that his curiosity could be misconstrued as bullying, which was hardly his intent.

"I still won't break your face, though," he promised. "In case anyone at all needs you pretty- the rest of you, though-" He swung the lantern, aiming for the page's torso. "That's fair game!"

HP: 3
Damage: 2

HP: 1
Damage: 0

Babylon flailed backwards, defending the ornament on his chest but just barely, taking Valhalla's punch in the shoulder instead. This fight was going worse than he'd expected it to - and he hadn't figured his odds as being that great in the first place. Who'd have expected Gallo to be so ruthless? "Hobbit?!" he sputtered. The height cracks were getting old fast - if they kept up, Babylon might even develop a complex.

Finding his footing again, he snapped back, "Oh, who cares what you think. Other people like me just fine." It was his ego's saving throw: Vindemiatrix certainly liked him enough to kiss him, so he couldn't be all that bad looking. Awful haircut and speckled complexion and crooked nose included.

"Besides," said Babylon, heaving his lantern in another hopeful swing. "If you think I'm into you... stop flattering yourself." If he felt even a twinge of attraction to Valhalla, it was just because there was something exhilarating about trading verbal abuse with the page. Nothing serious. Nothing he'd ever admit, even to himself.

It was probably karmic justice that his swing didn't hit. "******** ********," swore the squire, tripping hastily away.

HP: 0

Babylon tumbled backward, hands immediately flying to his face. Nose - nose intact? Nose was intact, okay. Everything else was inconsequential as long as he hadn't broken it a third time - he'd already suffered through one deviated septum, and he wasn't in the mood to do it again any time soon. "You ******** son of a b***h," moaned the squire, rubbing his cheek and running his tongue along his top row of teeth. Nothing felt loose there - another relief.

He glanced back up at Valhalla. "What the ******** was that for?" The ornament had definitely been broken before he took the fist to the face - which meant the page was playing dirty. It was tempting to punch back, but given his track record so far tonight, Babylon thought better of it. Better to just cut his losses and go find a steak for his face.

"Your smile is stupid and your hair is stupid and your face is stupid and your attitude is stupid," grumbled Babylon, making a face at the page. "And ******** you, and ******** this tournament, go tell Polaris you beat me, and ******** THIS s**t, I AM GOING HOME."

If Babylon were ever one to flounce away, now was certainly a moment that called for flouncing. However, he was not one to flounce and never had been and was not about to start. He blew a raspberry at Valhalla and trudged away, the spring totally taken out of his step.