[ the first couple of days had been.. difficult, to say the least. he'd been dead, he thinks? or about to die. he remembers the approach of the flames, the heat, the manic satisfaction of knowing finally.

and then he'd been here. he doesn't remember a lot about the first day or two, doesn't care to. he'd been a fucking nightmare, and coming down had been worse. sobriety makes him mean, really fucking mean.

anyway, that's all behind him now. this place is a shitshow, he can't find fucking cigarettes, the vape shit is stupid as fuck, but it hadn't taken him long to find his high and stay that way. a handjob in an alley had been enough to get him some info, and after that, well, he's dropped to his knees for less. so here at the festival, he's fucked up good, satisfactorily drunk, and--

--snatching up a bottle off someone's table, either sliding into their lap or into a seat next to them. he shakes the bottle at them, smile loose and wicked and gaze hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he obtained somewhere. ]

So this is what they call a party here, huh?

[ he doesn't look like much, of course. he's tall, but he's junkie-thin, after all, looking more like he should be sucking the winner off in one of the back rooms than standing in the ring. turns out he can fight, though, and he fights fucking dirty, and he can take a hit and keep on coming.

he's bloody by the time he splits his knuckles on his opponent's teeth, knocking them out with his last punch. they hit the mat, and afterward, he strolls to the edge of the ring, eye already going black and teeth scarlet from his split lip as he smiles, knifelike and as charming as some kind of snake. ]

Hey sweetheart, wanna' hand me a towel? [ his tongue flicks against his teeth, tasting the blood there, and he laughs, short and ugly. ] Or go a round with me, I'm not picky.

👀🤙👅🍆💦🥴👌

[ idk encounter him wherever. he will probably be a.) high, b.) an asshole. ]