Fight the Seventh // [Machiavelli vs Jimmy]

The longer Machiavelli waits for something to happen, the more the adrenaline ebbs into fatigue. It is, after all, very late at night or very early in the morning. To keep himself limber and entertained he stretches. He grins and winks whenever anyone catches his eye.

But inside, his stomach is a knot and his heart is sinking fast.

"ROUND SEVEN!" The announcer declares.

Machiavelli can barely feels his legs as he swaggers to standing. he ducks into the ring, following the lead of several other tributes, and makes sure to have his fists up first. "Morning, Jimmy," he says and as if to prove it releases a lion's yawn. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you the other day for brunch. Guess we're just gonna have to get to know each other here."

He shifts a little to be more at an angle to his opponent. He can almost see the slip of paper in his mind's eye. "What would you say is your biggest regret from home?"

When he punches, sleepily, his fist sails right by Jimmy Garner.