[ When he sees who he's been paired up with for combat, he almost laughs. She's a tiny slip of a thing— but then again, size has nothing to do with power. So he keeps that laughter to himself, his head cocking slightly as he looks at her from where they wait as the previous match wraps up. (Nothing of note, there, just two guys beating each other into the ground with their bare fists and no powers to speak of.)
He remembers her from Butler, remembers a discussion skirting around the dynamics of power and of bullshit. Beloved savior or hated witch, her profile had read. Fuck if he knows what that means. But he knows what he is, what he can do (even if he assumes the house has kept his limiting switch on, so to speak), so, as he peels off his armor (though not the favor that adorns him), opting for a period-appropriate white shirt instead, ]
You know what I can do, right? In broad strokes, anyway.
[ That's the other thing he knows: that she's Paul's girl. And that, if for no other reason, is enough to keep him from feeling absolutely no remorse at the idea of crushing her into a pulp. ]
— for alina.
He remembers her from Butler, remembers a discussion skirting around the dynamics of power and of bullshit. Beloved savior or hated witch, her profile had read. Fuck if he knows what that means. But he knows what he is, what he can do (even if he assumes the house has kept his limiting switch on, so to speak), so, as he peels off his armor (though not the favor that adorns him), opting for a period-appropriate white shirt instead, ]
You know what I can do, right? In broad strokes, anyway.
[ That's the other thing he knows: that she's Paul's girl. And that, if for no other reason, is enough to keep him from feeling absolutely no remorse at the idea of crushing her into a pulp. ]