thnks fr th mmrs || the crew

Taze raised an eye brow at Shane, rolling his eyes. He threw a few chips into the middle, thinking that his hand was at least competitive. He had a feeling Deacon had good cards, judging by the man's expression. He wasn't as good at hiding things as he thought, "Because we're the only ones who will put up with your bitch tendencies. Just don't lose and you won't get the tramp stamp." He insisted.

Deacon glared, "Dude, don't be an asshole." He threw a water bottle at Taze who blocked it with a flaming hand and ended up squirting melted plastic all over the cards. Deacon jumped up and back away, dropped his hand back on the ground and trying to get the hot plastic off his fingers, "Damn, Taze!" Well, that was the end of that game.

Pans eyes widened and he became much more alert as a fire hand destroyed the cards in front of them. Pan laughed. "Nice. Nice work," he said, raising an eyebrow at Taze. "So, now what do we do?" he tossed his own cards aside, which hadn't really been that burnt as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Dude, really." Tris remarked with a laugh, watching the plastic and water spill across the table. Some of the plastic ran across his hand, but it didn't hurt. He was heat resistant, after all.

When Pan questioned what they would do next, Tristan shrugged. "I'm sure we can think of somethin." Well, at least this way shane wouldn't have to worry about the tramp stamp and they wouldn't have to hear about it for the rest of forever.

Deacon frowned and shrugged, "I don't know about you guys but Colonel Wyatt and I do have work to do. Some meeting, remember?" He said, looking at his commanding officer expectantly, "That means you too, Shane. We gotta go."