Alan paced in place, hands forward, in the traditional athletic stance. He remembered his days in the old football league, giant hands ready to take the pigskin. Though, this time the center was a pissed off pirate. And the football was a metal, pointed sword with the intent to impale. Not much difference, really. Though, Alan didn't catch with his hands anymore.

As the sword drew close to his being, Alan lurched over as a pelican might swoop upon a crab. His maw opened wide, the flat side of the blade surfing along the enamel of his teeth. And in the contraction of his jaw, another set of enamel came crashing down upon the blade. The weapon skidded to a halt between the trap of Alan's pearly whites. He'd caught the blade. Alan grunted, bringing his neck upward to face the man, likely raising his arm with the maneuver. He stared him right in the eyes, lifting his eyebrows a couple of times. His tongue flicked outward to edge the side of the sword in play.

[color=gold]"HUA! GOOD FUN! NOW, MY TURN."[/color]

Though, his words were likely misunderstood with a sword between his teeth. In any case, the bulky, sword-eating pirate would bring a flying fist upward and into the bottom of the man's chin, a massive cannon of an arm performing an uppercut on the pirate's tender face flesh.