Then throwing the ball to someone specializing in Fantastics was probably the best idea. Tenn falters on the note he was holding, reflex breaking his concentration when he raises his arms to catch. (Didn't hit his face! There's the important thing!) His eyes narrow, casting a sharp glance in her general direction that clearly says, thanks, I hate it.

Now the field has turned to him. Oh, good, he has an audience. Starting a hum in the back of his throat, Tenn rolls the ball teasingly from one hand to another (there may be some fanservice in the form of a wink thrown at the opposing team), before opening his mouth to a low note that obscures the air around him. And then he’s sending a rolling fog to fluster them while he darts forward to return the hot potato to her.

"I don't want it, either. Here."