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[color=0072bc]"Too little, too late, Morgan. The first fights are being announced. Noel and I are gonna go scoop out this competition of ours. You can be come with us, but just know that we already voted you our stay-at-home-dad for this whole vacation."[/color] Brennan grinned impishly at the banker and finished his glass of milk with a flourish and a thunk.[color=0072bc]"I wanted to leave a maid's apron on your bed, but Noel informed me that could be considered [i]politically incorrect[/i] for a male homemaker. Sorry Supernanny."[/color]

His dark eyes locked onto the slowly milling crowd of students entering the Coliseum and narrowed; with his dark t-shirt, clothing, and restless gaze (sleep on the airship, as if) he looked like a particularly wary Nevermore from the balcony of BANK's suites. There was little he wanted more than to know which of them were fighters and which of them he would convince to cheer for him. He would give every one of them the time of their lives - but there was an important distinction between fondly picturing someone when you were with your lover and waking up in the middle of the night with no breath in your lungs and sweat beading on your skin at the thought of someone's laugh.

Brennan might have been born in Atlas and taught in Mistral, but where he really lived was with one foot in each extreme.

[color=0072bc]"If you're coming with us, make sure your fookin' toortle is locked up. Don't need that li'l bastard makin' hisself a nest outta my shirts - [i]again.[/i] If you're stayin', tell Tarik to come and meet us when you see him."[/color] Brennan vaulted over one of the couches that bordered the suite's dining room and maneuvered around the coffee table on his way to the door. [color=0072bc]"Noel's too short to see over half the seats. Last thing I need is her bony arse diggin' into my back through the prelims just so she can watch the lightweights dig into each other."[/color]