Keeping to the sidelines, Switch maintained her distance from the escalating conflict between the Jedi. Gripping her blaster tightly in a defensive, two-handed grip, her aim constantly shifting targets as the clashing of sabers burned brightly in the orange hue of her low-light goggles. Most of all, she kept her eyes on that insane furball, his behavior sliding further and further off the rails all evening. It also irked her that he had somehow recovered his lightsaber from her pack in all the confusion.
Keeping her obscured eyes glued to the action, the slicer gritted her teeth as the very public fight grew more and more intense. Against her better judgement, the woman felt the need to speak up. "Are all of you crazy!? Are violent sprees required to get a saber or something!?" It hardly took a genius to realize there was more to the situation, but the battered and tipsy woman was absolutely not having a good day anymore.