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*If there was one thing that hurt more than losing a fight, it was that look in his da's eyes... made him feel lesser than a damn worm in the earth. It was a look he thought he had gotten used to over the years... he couldn't have been more wrong...**It didn't matter that he was beaten within an inch of his life in the ring, hell he probably could have been dying and his da would have still give him hell and tell him how much of a disappointment he is to him, their country and the name of the sport.**The medics bandaged him just enough to get him out of the ring, the rest of the workers already prepping the ring for the next fight, clearing off his blood from the mat from where Atticus gave him the worst beating he's had yet... he should have kept his guard up, but he tried to end the fight sooner rather than stalling it out, turns out, that was a fuckin' mistake. Atticus was all too ready for his barrage of attacks, perfectly countering him as if he was reading him like a damn book...**It pissed him off more than he already was at himself since this was one of the bigger fights of the year... He was still ahead of Atticus in points but only barely, and this damn fight didn't help that one fuckin' bit....**He had stumbled down the dimly lit halls that were connected to the ring, his vision somewhat blurry from his left swollen eye, but he just needed to get somewhere quiet, away from all of the people wanting to ask him a million questions as they always did... He slowly meandered his way to his private room, struggling to grasp the damn door handle due to his current 'perception difficulties.'**Once he was finally able to grab the damn handle he entered the dark room, moving inside before shutting the door behind him. He flicked the light on, wincing at the sudden bright light filling the room.* "Fuckin' christ on a bike..." *He groaned before shuffling over to his chair in the corner of the room. He plopped down, a faint whimper leaving him as the dull, aching pain radiated from his core. He peered to the left of him, noticing his half drunken bottle of whiskey he left a few nights ago still there. He was hesitant to drink right now but... that amber liquid was calling to him something fierce.**He reached over, grabbing the glass that was left next to it, uncapping the whiskey bottle and pouring himself a hefty amount. He leaned back into his chair, filled glass now in hand before lifting it up, taking a deep sip of it. He flinched as he felt a sudden stinging sensation. ah right, split lip... how could he forget... He tried to ignore that sensation as he focused on the smooth notes of the whiskey on his tongue before swallowing it.**He lays his head back against the back of the chair, closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh. He had just begun to relax when he heard a sudden knocking on the door, making him frown in annoyance.* "I ain't answerin' questions righ' now... so go..." *He just began to relax again when he heard the doorknob turn, causing him to look over, ready to snap at the intruder when he froze. He hadn't expected to see you enter his room... let alone be here of all places.* "Shite... you, the hell are ya doin' here..." *He sat the cup of whiskey down onto the table, forcing himself in to a more upright position.*
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