Template:Featured Articles/31-2023
Practically hopping with her anger and disappointment and confusion, Terry quickly grew frustrated with all the people between her and Kyle, so she hummed herself a stable enough soundwave and pushed herself upward, over everyone's heads, moved far enough to land in front of him, and then dropped to the ground, bending her knees just a bit for shock absorption. "Kyle, love o'm'life," she said, reaching up to turn his face so she could see where that lizard woman had last kicked him. "What the bleedin' feck were y'playin' out there?" She paused just long enough to put up the sound barrier that would keep everyone else from hearing any more of their conversation, making both Kyle's and her own ears pop a bit, then levitated up to his eye level to check his other jaw. "Whatja mean playing? I was getting my ass handed to me by a psychopath." Kyle muttered. He poured water onto his towel and started wiping blood off his face. "I dunno, I just like. Something." he waved his free hand towards the middle of the ring, keeping his face behind the towel. "Ow, fuck, I think she broke my cheekbone. Jesus I hate her." Still levitating, Terry took the towel from Kyle’s hands and folded a corner of it over to a cleanish side. She narrowed her eyes, dabbing at the blood on Kyle’s face for an extended moment as she thought through what she wanted to say. Finally, tone level, Terry replied, “You weren’t gettin’ your arse handed t’you, Kyle. Y’were lettin’ that tacky fish-scented cunt hand it t’you. There’s a difference.” She dropped her hand, tilting Kyle’s chin up with gentle fingers a moment later. “What was that about, then?” Kyle didn't pull away, but his neck and jaw tensed, and he went unmoving. "I... dunno?" He started to shrug, and winced. "Aw, think I sprained my neck too. Fuck, this hurts." He reached up to poke at his face. "Man, ima have bruises all day tomorrow. I dunno what I was doing, just, like, I dunno, Ter. I don't think I was letting her hand me my ass." Kyle's fingers kept probing at his cheekbone and the bruising crept up towards his eye as he poked. "She's a sadist. Has like, some MMA in her pocket and thinks it makes her badass and she likes hurting people. Better me than somebody else, right?" Terry scoffed quietly, watching bruises bleed away from the more visible injuries. “How often have I watched y’spar, boyo? Y’think I don’t know what it looks like when you’re utilizin’ your trainin’? I saw y’takin’ hits y’could’ve avoided altogether, lettin’ that bitch have at you. Put her down as soon as y’heard me, though, didn’t you? Near enough, anyway.” Batting Kyle’s hand away so he’d stop poking at himself, Terry continued, “And it’s only good when it’s you because you’ve the skills t’stop her from hurtin’ someone else, right? But that’s only accurate if that’s what you’re doin’. How many times have y’fought her?” He could've lied - it was tempting. But the fight roster was public, Terry was smart and he was not an especially good liar. "Less than twenty, more than twelve?" He said, knowing the number was closer to the twenty side of that scale. "I dunno, Ter. I just... " He looked around, glared at one of the guys who wasn't in a fight today until he cleared a bench and then plopped down on it like he was releasing every muscle at once. "I don't know, okay? I just get in there and, I dunno, she says shit and I shut down." "She telegraphs her moves," Terry said. "I could read her and y'know I'm no fighter." Tilting Kyle's head down so she could see his eyes properly, Terry said, "Y'know better than t'let anybody's trash talkin' get the better o'you. Y'do." |
