… Ah. 

D'you know, somehow, she didn't see this coming?

Like, obviously, she wasn't fooling herself or anything. Ares, right? As much madness in those bloodshot eyes as there is in her own familiar purple, that same pulse-pounding drive, the same drumbeat-chested urge. He's not gonna hug it out.

Also the wet, sticky trickle down her neck is probably her ears bleeding? It'd explain why the world is fuzzy, instead of a roar--why all that surrounds her is her heartbeat, singing faster and faster.

But yeah! She totally fucked this up! The entire ship was too small for everyone to coexist peacefully, and she packed them all in one room and added turbo-cohol! 

Whoops!

Still, she finds herself whooping with laughter as she rises, scythes one leg of the tripod with a sweep of a death beam, and starts tossing people bodily through the holes in the walls left by Iskarot's deathbeam. Hell, let's get some more! Wide setting, aim where there's no people, and [i]tszhoom[/i] another barn-sized hole to toss people through!

After all, the faster the party leaks out into the rest of the ship, the faster people get a bit of space, and the faster the fighting stops, like sparks tossed far from a flame!

In theory! She hopes! Unless it actually spreads it further, like sparks landing in fresh tinder! Let's roll those dice!