Beau (rivalen) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-17 01:18:00 |
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The straps of his left gauntlet were too loose as Rivalen adjusted it, he had been in the healers' area a moment ago after his fight with one of the other guild fighters for the exhibition. He had showed off some techniques proudly- ones that Gillian had taught him and he thought would appreciate to see performed. A calculated ploy for her approval, and that of his Retainer who liked prized dogs, chocobos, samurais to form part of his court. People envied him because he compelled them to. A little too simple of an ambition for someone like Rivalen who wanted more always. Loch leaned on the railings, on the other side of the division set up between the audience and the fighters taking part in the exhibition. Before long, she would be warned away for safety reasons; for now, however, she eyed the Dragoon adjusting his own equipment some distance away and smoked lazily. (She had skipped every other fight―no point to making herself frustrated by watching a fight she couldn’t take part in, but this one she wanted to see). “So,” she said, “if you win, how much they paying you?” Rivalen shrugged, finished the straps of his left gauntlet before offering his right one to Loch, “Mind giving me a hand here?” He wiggled his fingers playfully at her and ignored the question, whatever he got paid was never as satisfying as kicking someone around in the ring and being able to excuse it as part of the entertainment. She raised her eyebrows at him; after a moment, cigarette poised between her lips, she reached out to do the straps on his right gauntlet. “You got a loyal squire to do this for you at the guildhall every day, Beau?” “Yes, but you do a much better job.” He commended, a smug grin; pulling them back he wriggled his fingers. Good, both were firmly adjusted now. One hand went to rest on the hilt of his sword, checking for its constant presence there. “Going to give me a kiss and wish me luck too?” “Easy there, darling.” She smirked, amused. “I treat you too well, your head’s gonna get so big you won’t be able to put on your helmet.” Rivalen laughed without rancour, Loch could not offend him and she was not entirely wrong; he motioned with his hand and a squire scampered over to hand him his helmet. “There is plenty of space inside it for my head, even with a few compliments from you.” He slipped it on, adjusting the straps as well, “Will you at least bet on me? Or are you going to bet against me?” As the squire, task complete, scampered away, Loch said, “Ain’t a betting sort of woman.” On the other side of the arena, Rivalen’s competitor seemed to be done adjusting his gear. Loch spotted the referee on his way; soon, she would be told to step back to a safe distance. Before then, however: “Maybe I’ll blow you a kiss when your back is turned, Beau. You’ll never find out.” Rivalen chuckled, “You’re such a spoiler of fun, Loch. I’ll have to live with that invisible kiss.” He drew the guard of his helmet across his face and then turned from her to face his competitor. The conversation already out of his mind as focused on the other man. With a lazy wave and a smirk, she turned and headed away from the arena, to find her place among the audience. |