Keith was happy to help Zebel, and once the deed was done, he nodded to her and went back to his seat. He sat in silence, unsure how to respond to her, or what to say at all. He went back to practicing wraps. For some reason, he wasn't excited to go to the tournament anymore, but he wasn't the kind of man to back out of a fight. He sat there, then decided to finish the pizzas. As he ate, his thoughts raced again, bu they were so jumbled that there would be no way to organize them, or argue with himself over them<br/><br/>Keith's body was now bruised, but the wounds were healing quickly, but his left ribs were killing him for some reason. The drugged up hoodie guy must've given him a fractured rib, and when he touched them, the sharp hiss of pain escaped his lips. He steeled himself and felt it to determine how much damage was dealt. The fracture felt an inch long, but not deep, only a hairline, he would heal from that in two days at the least. He sighed and kept eating pizza.