[Wade knows he should be annoyed at this. He should be salty at the fact that he was completely cockblocked at his most triumphant moment, and then verbally ground into the dirt by some upstart Lothlórien reject. But somehow, for whatever reason, he can't find himself to be chagrined. Wade feels his own mouth twist upwards in a grin, his voice strained with the effort of keeping himself from laughing-- an attempt that, while valiant, is ultimately futile.]

H-How... pfffahahaha-- How 'bout you stop talkin' and start tossin', fuckface? You can't get points from runnin' yer mouth.

[Let the games begin.]