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Celegorm grinned and socked Oromë in the shoulder. “Man, stop acting all serious and adult and shit. I’ve watched the footage from when you played pro, you were an animal.”
“You’ve watched the footage, have you?” said Oromë warily.
“Yes.” Celegorm’s grin widened. “Now I understand that weird scar you have on your ass. And why your tattoo is so extensive. When did you get the obscene part covered up?”
“When I got my first job,” said Oromë, who looked like he was struggling to maintain composure. “Tyelko, where were you watching–”
“It’s all on the internet, Coach,” said Celegorm, and laughed outright as Oromë groaned. “Your victory celebrations are the stuff of legend. Can you still do a backflip?”
“No,” said Oromë shortly, and made to escape down the hallway, but Celegorm pursued him.
“C’mon, I bet you still got it in you. You’re pretty damn flexible for an old guy…”
“Old guy?” Oromë growled and seized Celegorm with surprising speed. “I’ll show you ‘old guy’, you little punk…”
“Ohshit,” Celegorm managed as Oromë pinned his arms over his head. “ ‘m sorry… No, no I’m not, fuck, remind me to get you annoyed more often. Oh yeah, right there…”
“Better than a backflip?” Oromë whispered into his ear as Celegorm moaned.
“Backflip what? I don’t even remember what we were talking about…”
“That’s right,” Oromë murmured, and smiled as he lifted Celegorm against the wall.