"Which of us do you think would win in a fight?" Vic asked out of the blue, shoveling food into his mouth and surveying the group gathered at the table.
"That's a stupid question," Kyros did not look up from his textbook as he pierced a piece of lamb off his plate.

"Mirza, probably." Pari said around an orange slice, not glancing up from her book. Mirza, delighted, flexed his arm to show off the little muscle there.

"Uh, what?" Kyros looked to her. "Who is the only person sitting here who has actual martial arts training?"

"Which means nothing in the face of Mirza's sheer dynamism."
"It's true," Mirza said. "I'm very dynamic."

"Okay, okay, tier list, let's go down the line," Vic proposed.
"Well, is it a battle royale or is it brackets?" Feo asked. "It makes a difference. You know people would form alliances."

"Are we fighting each other, or are we fighting someone else?" Sparrow added. "I don't want to fight any of you."
"That's weird, because you and I fight all the time." Pari said. Sparrow frowned. "Hey, that's not fighting. That's old-grandma-couple bickering."

"Sparrow last place self-report," Vic pointed. "She couldn't handle the emotional toll."
"I would deck a royal," Feo put in innocently, poking the straw from his drink into his mouth. "Done it before."
"No," Kyros cut in, "No. There's no debate here. I could take all of you together or separately, case closed. We know this."

"Hey," Sparrow looked slightly offended, but just on principle. She knew it was probably true.
"I don't think so. I don't think you'd have the balls to punch Feo." Pari pointed out. "Like he said, he's decked a royal. I don't remember you decking anyone outside of your sparring sessions with Rommer, and even then you only ever land a hit on him when he lets you."