Betelgeuse does not like to be ignored, but he rolls his eyes and frees them up. He has a date with a bottle of purple hair dye anyway. Rather be there than here.

"Yeah, I bet." He grumbles, wracking his brain for what Rhys is good at as he stumbles, half-dead, to the infirmary door.

"Hey, Rhys?"

He asks, waiting for the other to turn to him, so he can flip the guy off.

"Blowjobs. That's what you're good at. I'm outtie."

Begone, thot!