Beaten In Lips // Gabsy

Marcus Antonio was a douche bag.

Elliot Galloway was more than absolutely pissed off at this moment in time, specifically with her trainer which, at the beginning of her coaching with him, she named "The Utter Most Retarded Douche Bag With a Firm Ass" of the century, also known as DB in shorter terms. She knew she shouldn't be so hard on the man because it was very clear that he was an absolutely efficient trainer, but she (and everyone else that he trained) couldn't deny that he held back when training females, always preaching the whole shebang of "it is highly unlikely that any of [the girls] will be attacked to harshly within the games, they should rely more-so on [their] male counterparts, and then, should [their] partner's die, use [their] womanly wiles to seduce the last standing men"; she really wanted to punch him, square in the nuts after he'd said that.

For the last 4 years of her life, she'd dedicated her life to training for the games, the games that she knew there was an extremely high probability that she'd either be reaped for (due to the number of Tesserae in which she took out to aid her mother at home during the years) or expected to volunteer for. Now, a man in which she knew for most of her 4 years of training was telling her that women training was... was basically useless, pissed her off. Blood, sweat and tears had been poured into her work, and every year she had increased in skill - something she was often praised for, becoming proficient in weapons such as whips, swords, glaive's and staffs; all useless apparently.

Grumbling, she pushed forward on her walk in which she was at current partaking in, in the opposite direction of the hellish place where that man was.

Suddenly, jolting pain exploded from her coccyx-bone upon impact on the concrete floor - that, mere seconds prior, had been under her feet as she made her way from the Training Centre, destination: home, for a quick carbohydrate filled lunch, before returning to the centre for another good 4 hour training session, with DB.

The man (who had knocked her down as she rounded a corner) before her was someone unfamiliar, an alien entity to her life, someone who held no hold upon her future, nor should have had a hold on her present day - but yet, here he was, in her life defying everything that should be. Thick, hot, fiery anger coursed through her veins at this man who had just disrupted her perfectly set and planned day, ruining her schedule.

"Excuse me?" she ground out, teeth clenched in fury at hulking figure. Who is he, to think he has the audacity to tell me what to do!? Her mind raged at the man, "Who exactly do you think you are, to tell me what to do? And better yet, why don't you watch where you're going! I'm not the one who knocked over some innocent girl." Squaring her shoulders to increase the broadness of her body, and straightening her posture to her full height all in attempt to seem larger that her mere 5'1", she growled out at the man. It was only then, after she allowed herself to rant out her inner thoughts to this hulking brute, that she came to realize what she was standing up against; a man of at least an extra entire foot (if not more) of height on her own, with dark brown buzz-cut hair which (to her chagrin) resembled that of the majority of Peace Keepers that resided in her home of District Two, and he stood wide - shoulder's bared to portray pure strength, and a definite unbridled cruelty. Shit, she couldn't help but think as she stared up at the being, I've really fucked up this time. Body tensed, she turned to meet the man (in which she had come to the conclusion was most likely a Peace Keeper, or if not one in training) head on, eye's reflecting her anger and hiding her fear.