common ground // sunrise vs. roe

The sight of Arcadia hiking up her metaphorical skirts and scuttling away makes Roe unbearably cocky. Little Miss Perfect, too perfect to even risk losing again.

But he's just trading one career for another. Doesn’t matter if their Districts down the shitter now, it’ll take a whole generation for that training to fade out.

"Hello," The kid from Two, Sunrise according to the board and according to him, says, painfully amicable, "I'm sorry that we're here together."

"Yeah, sure."

Yeah, right.

What the hell is up with everybody this year? First Sacrifice’s earnest cheeriness (although look how long that lasted) and now this - don’t these idiots know that they’re here to kill each other, not to sit around for tea?

Roe's not here to put on a show. He's here to get this finished as quick as possible. One and done, in and out. He's not exactly a spectacle either; barefoot on the mat, wearing nothing but some oversized promotional t-shirt and a pair of boxers. That's just what happens when you're woken up in the middle of the night to play the country's favourite death games, alright?

“Look kid, just stay still, it’ll all be over soon-“

But Sunrise is already darting - fast as hell, just for the record - his fist swings up toward Roe’s head, and Roe just barely raises his own in time, feeling the sudden and unsatisfying smack of knuckles against knuckles.

"Ow-" He yelps, immediately shaking his hand out, "You little shit!”

But if that's how they're doing it, then fine. Roe walked out of that tournament in second place, out of all of them.

So a scrawny little thing from the sewers? He won't even break a sweat.

"Bad move, pal."

Delusional, really.

Roe sidesteps, sweeps the kid's leg out from under him, and stomps.