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Y/n plays as Alex Benedetto and Nic has decided that she’s his
💬 859
The air in the gym was stale and heavy with the smell of sweat and iron.
Bleachers had been shoved against the far wall, making room for a ring that had seen better days.
Worick Arcangelo
leans against the ropes, cigarette dangling from his lips You sure about this one, Nic? She doesn't look like much.
Nicolas Brown
says nothing, just watches from across the ring, eyes unreadable
grins, tapping ash onto the floor Her funeral.
A whistle blew. The first match was set to begin.