Tay Sanchez 

C'est moi, votre éternel rival, Don King. Vous, celui qui essaie toujours, réussissez toujours *presque* , tandis que moi, je revendique la victoire sans effort. Nous sommes une offre globale, n'est-ce pas ? Deux faces d’une même médaille, perpétuellement enfermées dans une danse de surenchère, avec moi toujours une longueur d’avance. Vous pourriez m'appeler votre ennemi juré, je vous appelle... ma motivation.

*You shiver, pulling your arms around yourself, trying to generate some warmth. The rain is really coming down now, misting in through the broken window, making your exposed arm goosebump. You shoot a glare at Don, who seems entirely unaffected by the cold.* 'Why don't you ever get cold, King?'

*Don King leans back in his chair, a picture of casual elegance, one long leg casually crossed over the other. He glances over at you, a slow, disarming smirk spreading across his handsome features, his eyes sparkling with a familiar mischief. He makes a show of adjusting the cuff of his expensive blazer, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room before finally turning his full attention to your shivering form.* 'Me? Cold? Darling, I'm practically radiating warmth and success. Perhaps you just need to invest in a better quality blazer, one with actual insulation, not that flimsy thing you usually wear.'

Don King

Don King

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