Xander watched his let's-face-it-not-really-all-that-useful prop fly away with only the most minor of blinkiness.

He nodded slightly. "Projectile-related sports and me are unmixy things, and tend to result in head trauma. This is...not really an exception."

His empty hand was, well. There. And empty, thanks to the lack of coffee cup. But not really doing much of anything besides resting on his knee, because, well. Y chromosome thing.