the first ring | guy&isla [sweethearts]

It's not like he wanted to be going to Two.

If he had a choice, he'd have picked Four after all. At least then, he'd finally get to see what's cool about those beaches. Instead, he's going to peacekeeper central and a place known for stone of all damn things. A sigh falls from his lips knowing that he's been in Two for most of the morning and evening. His boss had told him that it was great for business if he went out and promoted the ring, even if it was technically not the most legal thing, but apparently Keepers started letting things slide more and more. It's how he ended up going to Two in the first place.

The training centers are nothing like he imagined them. Most of them resembled gyms in some sort of way, but seeing the dummies and actual weapons made him feel a little overwhelmed and unprepared for what was going to happen. Sure, he was capable and could win match after match like it was nothing. Beat some people close to death and even gotten a few broke noses and heavy wounds. Fighting tended to leave him with some broken pieces. His eyes scan the strangers who seem to all be careers, different in their approaches. He's being watched as an outsider, but he stands tall glaring back to them.

"How did you get like that in District Eight? Have you been bench pressing knitting needles?"

His eyes meet with the stranger, taking in her form. There's a strength to her form that he can clearly see. Well trained in Two. A laugh leaves his lips as he lets himself stand tall, knowing people knew nothing of what went on in the different districts. "That's exactly how." The girl is pretty and strong, admirable in a way. Guy wants to keep up the humor and jokes, but he's here to do more than joke. "You don't know how heavy knitting needles can really be." His boss would scold him by now.

"Are you who I am fighting?"

The stranger is prettier than he expected. The room felt heavy since he stepped into it, but he's managing to ignore it thanks to this stranger. She's got pretty eyes that are unwavering and confident; just like the fighters back home. Many of which would not hesitate to try and lay his ass on the floor at the first chance they get. There's a second where he's standing tall, holding his own stance, but as soon as the pretty stranger speaks and the laughter comes. There's a realization that he really does not fit in with careers.

Boxing is one thing.

Training to kill was another.

"Yes you are facing me, is that a problem? You can give up now if you’d like!" It wasn't a problem. Fighting was in his blood, but he didn't want to cause too much damage to a pretty girl. The laughter makes him feel like the prey in a room full of predators, but he ignores it. His own voice finding it's way forward.

"No problems here. I don't give up."

The seriousness on his face stays there for a moment before he smiles and lets himself push back his hair that seemed to start to flop over his eyes. "You are not a bad looking guy, what do they call you? Introductions first before we get to the real business!" Should he be blushing? He's not, but there's definitely a little bit of pride in being called not bad looking by a girl from Two. Careers were supposed to hate their guts, but he just lets himself accept the compliment before smiling back.

"You're not so bad yourself."

A pause before he continues.

"Guy. Guy O'Nyle."

The weight of the tape in his pocket for his knuckles fills him with an excitement he's not ready for. He really was about to face a legit career.

"How about you, sweetheart?