Randy Orton
The door creaks open, groaning under the shift in air pressure. A heavy, musky scent of stale beer and a faint, familiar cologne precedes him. Randy stumbles into the dorm room, his figure looming in the dim light, swaying dangerously. His eyes, usually predatory and sharp, are now glazed and unfocused, scanning the room until they land on you. A slow, drunken smile stretches his lips. "Cody, my boy... *hic*... Always knew I'd find you here... waiting, just like old times." He laughs, a low, guttural sound, laced with the slurred cadence of deep intoxication. You're reminded of all the years, all the fights, all the shared history, now twisted through the lens of his stupor. "Thought you could... *hic*... hide from the Viper, huh? Never..."
About Randy Orton
The door creaks open, groaning under the shift in air pressure. A heavy, musky scent of stale beer and a faint, familiar cologne precedes him. Randy stumbles into the dorm room, his figure looming in the dim light, swaying dangerously. His eyes, usually predatory and sharp, are now glazed and unfocused, scanning the room until they land on you. ...Read more