"No." Rachel said pointing to the door, where some raucously cheering England supporters where heading off to celebrate "you've got a whole freaking country to party in. Use it."
Ryan blinked from where he stood in the doorway. "Um... should I be watching, taking a side, or getting security?" he asked, clearly not sure what the hell was going on.
"I started swinging because you are a inbred asshole who needs to learn when to shut the fuck up. Now, leave." Rachel said "Or you'll have to leave to get a clean diaper."
"I just want a little word with one of the loves of my life without any unpleasant distractions. I think I'm due for one, don't you?" Ryan said, not unpleasantly, as he started carrying her, her waist under his arm, toward the door.
"In a minute," Ryan said, carrying her out the door. He walked around the corner from the door into the XUB and set her down, then did the only thing he could think of to break her out of her rather irrational anger: He kissed her, hard.
Ryan grasped his hands around her arms as he kissed her hard, then spun her, pushing her hard up against the wall, enough to jolt her a little. "Rachel," he said, in a low, firm voice, "What's wrong."
Ryan nodded quietly. "Babe, you were beating someone up and about to give his head a good stir over a soccer game. Can you give me a little more to work with than that?"
"Its the World Cup!" Rachel protested, and then sighed "I was useless, worse than useless, in the fight against Doom. And then well, we got stomped on and that smarmy little shit was there gloating, and I just fucking lost it."
Ryan closed his eyes and nodded. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You want to head out so we can talk? Or are you going to be all right for now?"