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Another day, another novice boxer who faced the wall that is King Hippo. She had successfully taken the win, knocking the opponent down to the mat after his frantic attempts to throw punch after punch. One would assume it was easy to learn her weakness if one simply took the time to think through it. For the more offensive ones, King Hippo became the first wall. The fallen boxer had left the facility as soon as he became conscious again - leaving King Hippo alone in the locker room for the moment.
Watching the other boxers fight wasn't something for her. While catching up on future opponents' quirks and weaknesses was good, she honestly didn't mind being the Minor Circuit Champion. It was a nice position. The people there were nice, she didn't get much unnecessary attention, and she held a belt. That felt more important than climbing the ranks.
She was happy in her little spot.
After a relaxing shower to get rid of the sweat and blood, King Hippo had positioned herself on one of the locker room benches. With a pen and sketchbook, her large hand placed down gentle strokes on the paper, sketching out the corner of the room. Someone had left a shirt laying there, as well as a locker filled with stuff open. It wasn't identifiable enough for King Hippo to try and guess who it belonged to. It only brought more character to the sketch, and so she left it be.
Aside from the radio playing at a low volume - some man speaking to a colleague about celebrity gossip - and the noise of the graphite against the paper, the locker room was completely empty. King Hippo released her grip of the sketch book from time to time to readjust the placement on her crown, not wanting it to slip off. And then she'd take a deep breath-
"Bloody hell-!"
Her attention was quickly brought to the door, but instead of seeing the Brit like expected, Aran Ryan came walking through while dusting his hands against each other. The boxing gloves and flail laid over his shoulder, and numerous bruises could be seen over his cheek and chest. Still, a wide smile appeared over his busted and bleeding lip thanks to the recent win. The opponent, however, was more than enraged.
"Me face ain't your punchin' bag, ya fuckin' twat!" Narcis Prince raised his voice, holding up an ice bag against his chin where a black eye was forming. Judging from the bleeding and slightly crooked nose, Aran Ryan hadn't held back during the fight. Honestly, why would he?
"Yer in a feckin' boxing ring, da hell ye xpectin' people ta punch ye? Ye bollocks?" Aran turned his whole body around, raising a cocky brow.
"That's where I'm gonna hit ya next with ya own fuckin' flail." Narcis muttered, spitting blood towards a trash can.
These two… King Hippo didn't say a word, but chances are the two boxers had already seen her. She wasn't easy to miss exactly, but she didn't want to get involved in their drama either. Pulling her gaze down to the sketchbook again, she tried to block out the yelling and focused on the drawing instead. Pressing the pencil a little harder against the paper, she started to fill out her sketch.
"Yer unlucky then, bastard! Mah flail's legal! Yer low blows ain't!" Aran cracked a laugh, almost spitting in the younger's face. "Try somethin' else!"
"Can try breakin' your neck fo' a change, ya knob-"
The boxing match had already ended, but that didn't stop these two from continuing fighting. Narcis' elbow hit Aran right by the template, sending him down with his equipment for a moment to collect himself. King Hippo kept trying to focus on sketching, but when the signature Irish scream filled the air, a dark pencil line was drawn diagonally over the delicate sketch - and she was missing an eraser.
Aran had gotten the chance to hit Narcis back as King Hippo stared in silence - her hard work was ruined. Another curse word slipped out of Narcis as he dug his nails into the Irishman's cheek. Unlucky for Narcis, Aran Ryan still hid horseshoes in the gloves. And those gloves were laying right next to them both.
Hippo stared at the ruined sketch, before her face grimaced into a rage to stare at the two fighting men. Before they knew it, a loud roar echoed between the walls. She was angry. She was upset. She was pissed. King Hippo closed her jaw with a snap, glaring at the two boxers who had started another bloodfest; specifically Aran Ryan with his potentially deadly weapon.
She didn't want to have to deal with this! All she wanted was to relax, and now her pretty drawing is ruined!
Both the men stopped in the middle, staring at the King. Narcis had both people to fear, but Aran still had the upper hand for one of them. No horseshoes had been dropped on heads, but instead Aran started to scream back. Mockingly, almost.
And so she roared again, throwing the sketchbook aside as she stood up. The only thing stopping her from making her more intimidating than the higher circuit boxers was her lack of height, but with her strong figure and angry roars, she didn't exactly look like she was going to give you a hug. Lifting Aran up through his tank top wasn't a challenge, and her hand grabbed onto the horseshoe filled glove. Of course, Aran refused to let go.
"Feckin' hell, ye ain't mah mum!" Aran scrowled, grip tight on his weapon. Hippo responded with another irritated groan, which Aran responded to by biting the air between them with his sharp teeth. Oh, what an animal.
Narcis, not wanting to get his head split open when the horseshoe eventually got dropped on him, quickly got back on his feet. The ice bag stayed on the floor where it had been dropped, as he took a few steps back. "Fuckin' hell, mate." He muttered under his breath, scratching some blood that had run down his chin. Once again he spat towards the trash can.
Aran Ryan kept pulling for his weapon, which Hippo held her grip onto. Not amused, she let out a grunt, one that seemed to get Aran to pull harder.
"Ye know they ain't gonna take this shit 'way from mah!" He responded to her inhumane noises.
Lifting him higher up to allow her to glare him in the eyes, Hippo grunted once again. Normally she wouldn't act like this, but if Aran is going to make it personally, then she will.
"Feckin'- fine! Take 't!" He spat, releasing both hands from the glove. Clenching his sharp teeth together, he huffed before crossing his arms.
Narcis hadn't quite caught onto the fact that they were having a conversation, as he moved far enough that Aran wouldn't be able to take one sprint to kill him. The ice bag stayed on the floor, as he wiped away most of the disgusting blood with his arm. As if the injuries from the boxing fight wasn't enough, he could now feel a pulsating pain next to his eye where Aran just hit him. If he was going to get a black eye from this motherfucker-
Hippo kept her focus on Aran, not letting him go yet. She wasn't calm, but as Aran let his guard down to comply just a little, she decided it was good to give him a stern warning. Sure, he's somewhat protected when it comes to fights inside the ring, but outside of that he's on his own. The police won't care if he's a boxer or not! Her roars were low and almost inaudible, with a few yaps here and there.
Aran rolled his eyes. "Yer da one stoppin' mah from killin' 'im on da spot, bastard-"
"Oi! Me ears still fine!" Narcis called out, a small sludder to his voice from all the injuries. And that's when he caught on. "Ya're feral 'nough ta understand her screams? Bloody hell, fuckin' animal-"
"Ye and she's tellin' me ye face's like a smacked arse-"
SPLAT! Without hesitation, King Hippo released her grip on Aran Ryan - resulting with him falling face first onto the floor. She may be a little harsh today, but if he's going to be insulting people in royalty's name, he can stay well on the ground!
Silence lingered in the air for a moment, before Hippo turned towards Narcis Prince. Despite his busted face, as Hippo approaches him, he straightens his back and puffs up his chest. But the sudden look of confidence doesn't give him the magic ability to understand her language.
"What?"
Hippo stays silent for a little longer, before leaving the locker room and heading out to the direction of the bathrooms.
Silence again.
"She's makin' sure ye ain't halfway dead, ye thick."
With Aran still on the floor unmoving, Narcis got back on track. "Oi, the fuck's going on between ya two?"
"I scream. She screams. Ye some gobshite, Narcis." Aran's voice muffled against the floor. Hell, he wasn't even going to pick himself up. "A laddie needs a translator-"
And speaking of the Devil, King Hippo came back with some paper towels, a few of them damp. Without hesitation, she made her way over to Narcis and instantly started wiping the blood off.
Narcis didn't say a word, only looked at Hippo as she got to work. A few times he made spitting-like noises as she forced the paper towels over his face, but aside from that he sat as well as a 20 year old man would while getting babied. If he tried to wipe blood away with his arm again, Hippo would gently grab it to wipe it off further with the paper towels. Jeez.
If Aran Ryan wasn't staying face down on the floor, Narcis would be making more of a fuss. It was actually a bit embarrassing. He had never really seen King Hippo in much of a good light. She was the royalty over some barely existing island, while he was Narcis Prince! He was everything better than her; fame, money, boxning - everything! And now she made him feel like a baby.
But when it was all eventually done, King Hippo looked over the other's face one last time before flashing a smile and a happy yap. All the now bloody paper towels were thrown into the trash, as she turned around with a pleasant little growl.
That made Narcis tense up - but she did look happy. Well, only one person could translate for him. "Ara-"
"Fecker, she's askin' 'f yer hungry. Jeez, can ye grab me a hot dog-"
Hippo grumbled, and though Narcis didn't know if that was a yes or no to Aran's question, Hippo turned to face Narcis for his answer.
"...Oi mate, why not." He mumbled, though not unhappy. "Might "s well… Thank ya."