๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ธโ๐๐โ ๐ผ๐๐ค๐ฅ / / ๐พ๐ฃ๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ โค๐๐ฃ๐ / / ๐๐๐๐
As though she'd never seen a more interesting slab of cement, Callan stared and she stared hard.
Don't. Look. "Aaaand, give it up for The Abusement Park with a resounding total of 64 points to Multiple Scorgasm's 45! They snagged every flag from the opponent and grabbed their healer all in a little more than six minutes--talk about overkill! I've got guards and paramedics on the way to patch people up temporarily, though we'll have everyone back to full health soon enough."The filthy concrete offered no solutions. Try as she might, she could not unsee what she had seen and the result was very different compared to when she'd glimpsed Chris's nude form.
He hadn't just been biting and straddling her minutes ago. At least the sight did wonders for making her forget how disappointed she was about the loss. She floundered for something positive to focus on as guards and paramedics trickled swiftly into the plaza. This proved even more difficult a task as she observed the nervous looking young woman shakily treating her.
Every time Callan looked at her, she flinched. So, holding the cold compress to her eye, she went back to staring at the ground, adding some other feeling to the mixture of emotions brewing inside her. To a lesser extent, it was almost like that night when she snapped at Grant. Couldn't she ever end on a single note? Embarrassment, disappointment, confusion, anger, relief, regret.... Lost in it all, she offered Marcus a short wave before he left to shower off.
Arriving in the 'snack room', as Callan instantly dubbed it, the scenes playing on the screens instantly helped clarify more than a few things. The snacks were too close to the seat Sander had chosen for her to go near them, so she opted to sit down in the seat furthest from his, front row, end seat on the opposite side. It was hard for her to get comfortable while holding the compress to her face and, gathering as much information as she cared to from the screens, she stared at Sander until she heard a cry coming from Fredric's direction..
Their healer, Christmas, had... stabbed himself? The healing red mist momentarily interrupted her thoughts with an alleviating sensation. She felt the throbbing in her face subside and moved her fingers to her neck to feel as the bite marks from Sander smoothed themselves out. Watching Christmas fall to his knees, Callan was halfway out of her chair before a pair of paramedics rushed forward to treat him. Sinking back into her seat with a sigh, she tossed the compress onto the table and ran her hands up over her face. Smoothing her bangs back into her ponytail, she interlocked her fingers around the base and brought her elbows close together before resting them on the table. She closed her eyes and tensed her shoulders before letting them droop with another long exhale.
Callan turned her head just enough to peer at Sander through the gap between her forearm and bicep. She observed Christmas speaking with him through tears, which slowly faded as their conversation went on. She couldn't believe this sudden urge she was having. It wasn't unlike her to want to practice for something like this, but... a rematch? With the boy who couldn't seem to make it through a
Flag Football game without running around stark naked by six minutes? Hell, he'd been down to his boxers and shoes by two!
She wanted to interrupt them-- very unlike her. To waltz over, slam her fists against the table and demand a rematch. But....
She turned her head away and closed her eyes again. There was no need to be rash. They'd been put on opposing teams for a reason. Perhaps... they'd permit her to fight him again? One on one? They could always taze her if she lost control-- or him, if he.... She blushed and inwardly groaned with embarrassment. If he what? Got naked? B-bit her again?
Knowing full well there were plenty of other things about the match she could be thinking about right now, her mind seemed superglued in place. There was a word to describe her loss that she couldn't quite pin down. Uncool? Lame? Not just embarrassing....
She'd under estimated Sander--
and Grant. She'd held back-- not given her all. She let herself lose to a
pair of fucking pants for fuck's sake. Glancing up at the face-off between Sander and Grant as if the word might suddenly run across the screen like a news break, it finally came to her. The word that perfectly embodied it all-- including the reason why she felt she
needed a rematch.
Undignified.
Dervish
