Food fights? It wouldn’t be Tucker’s first, although his had a tendency to be a real legitimate fight, if only because a young alien son could be a little…bitey with his food. And people. And everything. But he had grown mostly out of it, and once that stage passed, that had been (mostly) that.

This? This seemed way more good natured, easy, relaxed. Tucker wasn’t sure who started it, but he wasn’t mad; this place sure as hell needed something uplifting like this after what they had been through. Just as long as it wasn’t precious alcohol, he personally didn’t have to clean it up, and it didn’t get in his hair, he was fine. Hell, he was more than fine; he was happy.

So, picking up a roll and tossing it a few times in his hand to test the weight, he flung it high in the air and hoped it would land on someone good. Why not? Let’s do this shit.