Bill saw Fox outside of the stadium, begging for money. He approached him, and said "Fox. You're a veteran. You've been through worse, and so have I."
Fox was leaning down towards a young, scared-looking toad, one grubby paw thrust out as he made a grotesque attempt at a harmless grin, when Bill approached him.
Fox whirled around in surprise, feeling deeply humiliated that an old friend would see him this way, and masked his shame with an angry snarl.
"What?!
What?! You think you know what I've been through? What I've
seen? You don't know
shit!" He paused to catch a coin that someone tossed at him, hiding it away safely in his underwear before continuing his rant, eyes wild with that special kind of crazy homeless war vets seem to have in spades.
"Yeah, that's right, I cursed! You think I care about
ratings? Who the hell wants to play a game about s-some washed-up ex-pilot like me, anyway?
I'm getting mange in my nether regions, for heck's sake! Are you ashamed of me, then? You want to show everyone how 'tough' veterans are? Well, Bill, why don't
you join the Cup, then? Me, I'm going to go wallow in self-pity. And drunkeness. Ehh, mostly drunkeness."
He staggered over to jump back into his kart, the weary suspension giving an alarming creak even under its owner's stick-thin frame. He quickly put it into gear before stomping the accelerator, peeling rubber and heading in the direction of the nearest cheap liquor store.
>Speed off to the (preferably drive-through) liquor store! Looks like that Fire Flower Whiskey is within reach, after all!