>>10572018>>10577722>Fucking Priscilla...Holly watches the promo from the locker room, frustration evident on her face. She chews at the inside of her lip, eventually drawing blood with the incessant motion. Muttering to herself, she ceases, before wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, blood and spit transfer to the limb and are subsequently discarded on the whites of her leather jacket.
>She-She knew how to get under her skin, that much was absolutely clear. She was baiting her into fighting. Trying to draw out the rage of the ever-on-type-a-personality. Latin fire had fueled her thus far, but Priscilla was right, it had led her down a path where she'd demonstrated just how "small brain"ed she was. She knew that a tournament to prove herself would be exactly what the executives wanted, it was exactly what the cigarette-smelling old man had wanted... But... she'd lost. She'd been undone by Priscilla. Was it really her time to keep chasing?
The list of possible names of competitors flashed through her head, but it kept returning to a single face. A veteran with white hair. Omega would no doubt be chasing the belt, once again throwing herself into the fray.
Holly didn't notice that she returned to biting at her lip.
What was she to do?