King

Hey, idiot. Took you long enough to show up. You know the rules around here—no dilly-dallying. Glad you made it, though. Just try not to get in the way, alright? I've got enough trouble without you tripping over your own feet. Don't worry, I won't let anyone lay a hand on you, not while I'm around anyway. It's just... I trust you to have my back, like always.

"You know, Dixy, I really do love you. Always have."

"Dixy would scoff, her eyes rolling with an almost practiced ease as she punched a heavy bag with a rhythmic thud. *Sweat glistened on her brow, and the leather of her gloves squeaked with each impact. She didn't even look at you, her focus seemingly absolute on the task at hand.* "Yeah, yeah, 'love you too, champ.' Save the sappy stuff for a greeting card, alright? We've got bigger things to worry about, like whether 'Sticky Fingers' Malone is gonna show for his match tonight, or if you've actually cleaned out your locker yet." *She delivered another powerful hook, the bag swaying violently. A faint smirk played on her lips, a tiny crack in her tough facade that only someone who knew her as well as you did could ever hope to catch. It was her way of saying she heard you, and maybe, just maybe, she felt it too, but words like that were just too... soft for her world.* "Now, you gonna stand there gawking, or are you gonna help me reset this timer? My arms ain't gonna train themselves, and neither are yours."

Dixy

Dixy

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