“Elsha… go in for Jorasa… she only needs a moment or two more.” Elsha nodded and picked up her helmet, but didn’t get up. They were still in the midst of mid-game. The choir sang softly as the watching crowd spoke quietly, a sea-murmur of bets made and changed, and commentary on the first set play. Servants moved between the seats, offering refreshements.
Jorasa sat, helmet off, while Akminchaer finished wrapping her left forearm, face calm as any of the men having an injury attended to.
It would be worth it, having him in the penalty cage, for the first two tenths of a tenth in the second half, though Jorasa thought it was a little light. "He should have been called for spiking a cleary," she said. "That should have been a full half tenth penalty." Then she answered the Haian.
“I can play, if I must…” Jorasa turned the hand over and hid the wince. She’d taken a direct tackle from the heaviest Jammer the Dulis had and he’d knocked her tail over tip. “But thank High Selinae for Elsha.”
“If that card-pub tries to get that close again, Borasa and bothers you," he called. "You have my permission to punch the man.”
Coach caught everyone's eye on the bench, one after the other as he paced in front of them. He seemed perfectly composed and his comb tapped slowly on the knuckles of his other hand. Reminding them all. Knuckles out. Knuckles out.
"Meet them with knuckles not your fan," he'd said in their ears immediately after first set. The second set would be brutal.
The watching crowd settled, intent on the battle before them, wine glasses set aside as the red-shirt skated out with the new disc.
The crowd hushed as he raised the disk and paused. Elsha and the Duli crouched lower on their skates, eyes on the red-shirt, and each other.