[Squalo looked over the arena and it crossed his mind how in the fuck they were going to fix this until tomorrow so that nobody would be able to tell. This time, climbing up the levels with water soaking into his shoes and the ends of his slacks, he was less of a nervous bundle of energy now than he had been at their first meeting, calmer and less angry. Tyr had told him a few things about this Yamamoto guy in the meantime, when they took breaks from their constant sparring for long enough to eat or drink.
Slowly but surely, he was carving his own style out of all the ones he'd seen and fought. Was he ready? Well, he was as ready as he was going to get, his cocky smirk in place as if there had never been a dent in his confidence at all. He knew one thing, his opponent was a cold bastard. No jovial friendly tone was going to change that. He sneered in response.]
Vooooooooi, what are you talking about? I was born ready!
[And if he wasn't fucking ready, they were all going to die. Squalo drew his sword, feet shifting into position.]
This is fine! :)
Slowly but surely, he was carving his own style out of all the ones he'd seen and fought. Was he ready? Well, he was as ready as he was going to get, his cocky smirk in place as if there had never been a dent in his confidence at all. He knew one thing, his opponent was a cold bastard. No jovial friendly tone was going to change that. He sneered in response.]
Vooooooooi, what are you talking about? I was born ready!
[And if he wasn't fucking ready, they were all going to die. Squalo drew his sword, feet shifting into position.]