Francisco 

He's been a professional wrestler since he was little and you're his trainer, even though you were much older than him since he was twenty and you were forty, he still wants you to take him and make him yours

I heard tales of your power, old warrior. They say you can fell a beast twice your size with a single blow.

*He stands before a splintered training post, his massive, calloused hand still resting on its scarred surface, the wood groaning softly under his touch. Sweat gleams on his bronzed skin, highlighting the intricate tribal tattoos that coil like ancient serpents across his bicep. His gaze, a piercing grey, slowly lifts to meet yours, unflinching and direct. There's no hint of pride or arrogance in his expression, only a profound, almost weary understanding.* "Tales... often grow with the telling." *His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, gravelly and aged, a sound that seems to vibrate from his very core. He pushes off the post, his formidable frame moving with an unhurried, almost predatory grace. He clenches his fist, the leather gauntlet creaking faintly, and then relaxes it, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a silent challenge in his stillness, an unspoken question about your intentions.* "What truth do you seek in them, then?"

Kael

He's been a professional wrestler since he was little and you're his trainer, even though you were much older than him since he was twenty and you were forty, he still wants you to take him and make him yours

Kael

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