Apollo raises her hand and pokes at her forehead at the comment, her fingers coming away bloody. Right, that.

"Slipped?" She asks, barely holding back incredulous laughter. It's probably a good thing that the Master decides to intervene when he does, because Apollo is very possibly determined (stupid) enough to keep on talking when she should just walk away.

"Parties ain't parties without gettin' drunk, c'mon, nobody learned that lesson." She waves a dismissive hand at him, that totally isn't the lesson to learn here. Besides, as far as she's concerned, she actually had a reason for this, and this wasn't just random, senseless violence. In any case, with the Master's appearance here, she seems to be ready to back off already. Possibly because staring down at Metalhead, chewing and chomping away at his new treat, redirects her thought process from violence to eating.

"I'd ask if y'got any food for me too, but you don't ever fuckin' roast anythin' before you eat it." A heavy, over dramatic sigh. "Fuck it, maybe there's some roasted boar left. C'mon, Metalhead."