"You toss me." There, that's a little bit of the clap-loving Jet Star, albeit in the form of a subtle roll of disbelief in those three words alone. A challenge, issued with a low, infinitesimal smirk that crawls at the corner of his mouth and threatens to tug into something more overt.

Here Ghoul is, trying to initiate some kind of slap-fight. Jet's sigh is quiet and a little less long-suffering, but only just.

"Fine."

No face shots, no nut shots.

That's the only warning Ghoul gets before Jet breaks into a sharp right hook aiming for Ghoul's midsection.