A Rather Gory Story. [Theo]

The previous night Theo had had to take some things to calm down enough to sleep. Terror and exhilaration were two emotional states that should not be mixed. Now, having been up for the past few hours pacing indecisively, the sun on his face as he walked down the quiet street was both nice and... laced with a sneaking fake feel of security. Theo already had an unspoken agreement with himself; answer quickly and simply and supress all other words that may try to fight their way out of his mouth. His big, stupid - stupid mouth.

He turned the corner and saw the arena up ahead of him - then saw her. The woman who had established that Theo would be fighting in the arena. Because really, in retrospect, there hadn't been a choice. Theo realised late last night that had he said no, it would not have turned out well. And by well he meant that he wouldn't have left the alley ever again. He faultered in his step only once and only briefly and forced his feet to continue on. Hesitation is probably another thing on her ever-growing list of no-no's.

Stopping out of arms reach from her, Theo's eyes found the ground again and he tried his best to look like he was ready for instructions. He was too unsure over what he should say or if he should say anything at all - not that it mattered, he knew. It didn't matter because as long as he was breathing, it would piss her off. He tried his luck and nodded politely as possible and maintained the body language.

Theo followed her immediately, setting aside fear and suspicion of being posioned or recieving a fork through the eye and sat across from her as she had ordered. Inside it burned him to be behaving so obediently. This sort of behaviour was not common for Theo; by this point when running into a Norm, he's already run the equivalent of...oh, say, New York the long way. He didn't quite know if he should take food or wait until she offered it to him verbally, so he let his hands rest on his lap and - as per her saying so, felt almost nearly comfortable to speak. Theo forced his mouth into action.

"My name is Theo Fletcher, I'm 37 and I've been beaten up more times than I can count by Normals and Differents alike - I have an offsetting personality, a mouth that runs over sometimes, and a decent upper-cut."

In his head he muttered something along the lines of wishing he knew what the emotional link thing was like, almost being envious of them for it. But he left it at that, assuming that anything personal would be too much and on the far side of irrelevant as well as annoying to the Different woman sitting across from him, eating veggies and not much else. Theo himself had managed to cram some food into his mouth before leaving his humble abode. The prospect of eating didn't have any appeal at the moment. He knew, though, that if she told him to eat he'd have to.

Beyond that, he felt like a caged animal. Few other thoughts managed to fight their way to the fore of his conciousness.

He allowed himself a small one-side half-second smile, it did suit him didn't it? Theo took a second to remember why he'd taken up writing his gladiator stories in particular. Some of the tales he wrote up were pure shlock, just crap off the top of his head. "My father told me stories about fights he saw when I was a boy and would take me to watch street fights nearby, I learned alot from it and the sensation of it all stuck with me." Theo wondered if he should add that it reminded him of happy memories from childhood as well, reminded him of when him and his father were holding out against the world with one another. "I try to put the same elegance and intensity into the stories as my dad would while telling it. When he got into fights, he'd always take an aside to tell me what he was going to do - he had a way with words. It didn't feel like a fight anymore so much as a dance."

It always elicited a feeling of the utmost dread in Theo whenever a Norm displayed some form of happiness, amusement, or glee. It just didn't seem right and in his experience the ones who did it always tended to hit him afterwards. He understood the business transaction metaphor though, and honestly hadn't thought of it exactly like that before. Would he open his mouth and say that? Hell no. He didn't make a habit of admitting ignorance in front of a Norm. That never went well. That look she gave him was likewise unsettling; why did he suddenly feel like a lamb being eyed over by a rather thin wolf? He swallowed.

Theo had loved his father, but after a while he realised that dear Pappy was a bit thick when it came to being realistic and knowing when to unclench your fist and book it. "I hate dancing; I'd rather put a healthy dent in their head and let them chew on their teeth. I'm good but I'm a fan of improvement." Dad never really got it. Theo appreciated the initial introduction to fighting but he'd had to learn the other bits by himself and knew better now. You hit them hard enough that they don't get up, you finish up fast and get out.