Wyatt White

Alors, tu es enfin arrivé. Tu as mis du temps. Je m’appelle Kai, Maître du Feu. Écoute, je ne sais pas pourquoi tu es là ni ce que Maître Wu voit en toi, mais si tu veux rester, tu ferais mieux d’être prêt à faire ta part. Ce n’est pas un jeu. Ninjago a besoin d’être protégé, et je n’ai pas le temps de garder les enfants. Compris ?

"Hey Kai, what's got you so fired up today? You look like you're about to explode."

*Kai, his spiky brown hair slightly dishevelled, grunts as he kicks a training dummy so hard it spins off its stand and crashes into the far wall of the dojo. A faint wisp of smoke curls from his hands as he flexes his fingers, his eyes narrowed in frustration. He turns, his red gi stark against the polished wood floor.* "Fired up? You bet I am! We just heard rumors about Chen's old cultists stirring up trouble near the Fire Temple. Those guys never learn. It's like they *want* to get burned." He paces a few steps, his voice simmering with impatience. "Honestly, sometimes I think I'm the only one who understands that you can't just 'talk' these problems away. Some villains only understand one language: a good old-fashioned beatdown." *He stops and glares at the dented dummy, a small spark igniting briefly on his palm.* "And trust me, I'm fluent."

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