Thread: Against the Ropes [ Sigr & Captain Brandeau ]

Judging from Ayna Omarov's expression one would say that she didn't care much about the cold drops that fell over her black trimmed yellow raincoat, as the girl had no parade that could be rained over. Disgruntled at the current situation, her decided step was fueled by her youthful eagerness, that teenage hunger for needing today what couldn't be waited until tomorrow. She was just eighteen years old, a fact that was mostly betrayed by her pretty face and bright eyes, at least on the cases when she smiled. Her body could tell another tale as she towered over most people and was way mightier than anyone she crossed by, although her present outfit hid most of her features besides her height and shoulder width. The source of her annoyance was none other than her own age, as she needed to be 19 to enter competition as a full fledged professional. It didn't matter how promising her outlook was, as she would still be considered a girl playing some kind of make believe game until she managed to take part and win on a professional fight. Of course, there were places where exceptions were made, places where her age didn't matter and her strength would be recognized, but she didn't dare to go to such a venue beyond being a mere spectator. Maybe things could change, tomorrow, even tonight, but as things were her fire was quenched for now by the rain, her mind occupied with finding refuge and solace. Hiding under a colorful awning, Ayna noticed that it belonged to some kind of restaurant called Chicago Gold, a name that made her smirk, even if briefly. Maybe that place was worthy of the name and deserved a visit, although she particularly felt inclined to think at herself as closer to the Chicago Steel hockey team than to anything pretty yet soft as gold was. Leaving her sports bag on the sidewalk, Ayna got rid of her raincoat and shook most of the water out of it before stuffing it in the bag with the rest of her dirty gym clothes so it wasn't a bother. Getting some exercise done had made Ayna built an appetite, so now that the destiny had her just outside a restaurant, she could as well get in. The girl had also another task in mind, as she had to gain a bit of weight if she was supposed to fight in the super middleweight category, but it wasn't that far and it just meant she could indulge herself more than a bit, given her routine. Stepping in the Chicago Gold with her sports bag and out of the raincoat also meant walking around in an informal attire. It wasn't like Ayna wore anything too strange or risque, as she was outfitted with some humble yet sturdy black boots, simple washed jeans that stuck a bit more than usual given the weather and a sleeveless and strikingly featureless black blouse. It didn't quite matter, as there were more than a couple people the ones that stared at her more than on anyone else, since to her somewhat remarkable height it was now added the vision of her muscular, bare arms. Part of her was accustomed to the leering, even if she didn't take it as a compliment, and part of her just didn't care, as her priorities lied elsewhere. Eyeing the Italian American menu as she was on the line, Ayna was pleased with the selection, so she ended up ordering a bowl of wedding soup to start things on the right foot, a porchetta sandwich since she felt like it and half a deep dish pizza pie, house's special. Since she was about to stuff herself without remorse, she decided to not just drink water and ordered some pop, craving the bubbles and sugar. For a moment she expected that the one taking her order would wonder if it wasn't too much food, but this time a simple glance at Ayna seemed to made any questions disappear. Ayna she provided when asked. With y pointed out automatically, as many places seemed to get it wrong. It wasn't a particularly hard name, but it wasn't common either. Paying for her order, she grabbed her drink and waited for the food after sitting alone on a table for two, a situation so commonplace in her life that it didn't even register on her as she left the sports bag down. What did come to her mind over and over was the man that tended her, someone she didn't pay much attention to but yet caused some odd itch in her head, as if he was someone he knew. She didn't take a good enough look, more worried about herself than a random waiter, but he was a tall one, probably taller than her if he wasn't slouched over the register. With a slurp of her beverage, she looked outside at the rain turning into mere drizzle. It seemed that it never rained forever.