Donny sighed and lit up another cigarette as he watched the two Ashen Level fighters go to town, the muscles in their sweat-laced backs straining as they dipped and punched and traded blows. It was the lowest level of power in the Colosseum, but it reminded him of those UFC fights that a considerable number of loan sharks kept tabs on. A little simplicity now and then was good for his blood pressure anyways. Anything above Cobalt Level made his eyes hurt from trying to keep track of what was going on. He leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the marble headrest of the seat in front of him, reclining as he tipped the brim of his fedora down to shade his eyes. It was always so fucking sunny here. Noticing a passing vendor, he crooked a thumb at her and barked out a jovial catcall.
"Ayuh, prettuh miss! How 'bout a beeyuh ovah 'ere, darlin'?"
The vendor, a prim girl with purple highlights, uttered a long suffering groan and approached Donny with her beer tray. She noted, with contempt, that the sphere above his head was green. The verdant ones were always so damned arrogant.
"Ayuh, prettuh miss! How 'bout a beeyuh ovah 'ere, darlin'?"
The vendor, a prim girl with purple highlights, uttered a long suffering groan and approached Donny with her beer tray. She noted, with contempt, that the sphere above his head was green. The verdant ones were always so damned arrogant.
