[ even if he does, she won't, so sam spins on her stool, edge of her scarf fluttering from the movement, to study the two fighters shaking out their limbs outside the ring.
one is massive, carved from marble and looking like john henry enough that she almost thinks "i know him!" before she blinks away the foolish idea. he's slow, lumbering, every step grounding and firm. the other is as tall but wiry, punching at the air with quick jabs. she can imagine the swish of air around his fists. he looks smug, she doesn't like him.
glancing next to them, she eavesdrops on some of the quiet betting. the odds are on speedy and so her attention swerves back to him. no, it won't be him. ]
no subject
one is massive, carved from marble and looking like john henry enough that she almost thinks "i know him!" before she blinks away the foolish idea. he's slow, lumbering, every step grounding and firm. the other is as tall but wiry, punching at the air with quick jabs. she can imagine the swish of air around his fists. he looks smug, she doesn't like him.
glancing next to them, she eavesdrops on some of the quiet betting. the odds are on speedy and so her attention swerves back to him. no, it won't be him. ]
30%. That's my fee.