[ wow i just realized i totally forgot to describe gen's dumb new dog ears in that first tag so please pretend those were there all along okay thank u friend ilu, blows kisses, but anyway
Hypocrite that he is, Gen usually doesn't like having his questions turned back on him. But this one in particular has irritation prickling hot down his spine.
(Does he know what he's doing? Fuck if he knows. He doesn't know why the hell he's even here any more, let alone why he's here, in this ring, doing what he's doing now, preparing to fight a stranger for even less reason than he usually picks fights. Who knows. Who cares.)
His annoyance manifests in a curled lip and narrowed eyes as he lowers his stance a little further, like he's prepared to rip and tear the moment the ref gives the signal. ]
I know enough.
[ Maybe? Probably? It's admittedly been a while since he's fought anyone properly after having lost those bullshit magic powers he had back in Horos, but -- whatever. He's been in more scraps than he cares to keep track of, so. It's enough.
The referee starts laying out rules or whatever, but Gen's clearly not listening. Those canine ears of his are canted forward, alert to every sound coming from around him, and his gaze doesn't waver a fraction from where it's fixed on studying Mamoru's every movement. And almost before the ref's even finished his countdown and shouted the word, 'GO!,' he lunges forward.
Gen's a bit quicker than most street punks, and his movements are a little more efficient than might have been expected. But he's otherwise true to his roots as a delinquent who'd learned to fight simply through getting into brawls with his delinquent ilk. The hard right hook he aims at Mamoru's ribcage is simple, efficient, and to-the-point. ]
no subject
Hypocrite that he is, Gen usually doesn't like having his questions turned back on him. But this one in particular has irritation prickling hot down his spine.
(Does he know what he's doing? Fuck if he knows. He doesn't know why the hell he's even here any more, let alone why he's here, in this ring, doing what he's doing now, preparing to fight a stranger for even less reason than he usually picks fights. Who knows. Who cares.)
His annoyance manifests in a curled lip and narrowed eyes as he lowers his stance a little further, like he's prepared to rip and tear the moment the ref gives the signal. ]
I know enough.
[ Maybe? Probably? It's admittedly been a while since he's fought anyone properly after having lost those bullshit magic powers he had back in Horos, but -- whatever. He's been in more scraps than he cares to keep track of, so. It's enough.
The referee starts laying out rules or whatever, but Gen's clearly not listening. Those canine ears of his are canted forward, alert to every sound coming from around him, and his gaze doesn't waver a fraction from where it's fixed on studying Mamoru's every movement. And almost before the ref's even finished his countdown and shouted the word, 'GO!,' he lunges forward.
Gen's a bit quicker than most street punks, and his movements are a little more efficient than might have been expected. But he's otherwise true to his roots as a delinquent who'd learned to fight simply through getting into brawls with his delinquent ilk. The hard right hook he aims at Mamoru's ribcage is simple, efficient, and to-the-point. ]