[color=8882be][h3]Lauren Negasi[/h3][/color]

In lieu of tackling her team leader from behind and sending him sprawling in a crowded hallway, Lauren called out an unintelligible word of warning/greeting to Ben after she had finally caught sight of his familiar mop of hair and the woozy gait he was still carrying himself with. The newest member of BASL ([color=8882be]'Bastille,'[/color] Lauren had suggested after a collaborative naming session the previous weekend in which the team had sat down and begged each other to coin something besides 'Basil') weaved through the crowd and caught Ben by the shoulders with an arm - albeit less roughly than she would normally.

Lauren herself was as close to outwardly banged up as she had looked thus far in her time at Beacon. A bandaid was haphazardly slapped over the inside of her eye, hugging a knuckle-shaped cut on the inside of her nose's bridge, while by her temple the rest of the russet-colored skin around her eye had already bypassed the DMX-levels of black she was expecting it to swell to, and had instead settled for darkening into a large bruise. At least her eye wouldn't be swollen shut until the weekend. A little banged up, 

[color=8882be]"Thaaat,"[/color] she sang, [color=8882be]"was the best fight of my life. You fucking bastard, when you popped those batteries I wanted to [i]strangle[/i] you. God. What a scrap. What [i]a scrap.[/i] And did you see Goodwitch's [b][i]face[/i][/b]? She was ass-blasted! Rectally ravaged! Colon clobbered! Excretorially excavated!"[/color]