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Summary
Lightening would love nothing more than to slap that smug smile right off Storm’s pretty face. To look down on Storm from atop the winners' podium and see him humbled. What kind of expression would Strom make then? Lightning tried to imagine it. Sure, Storm could play it cool at first. It was only one loss. The crafty elder statesman of the sport just got lucky. But could Storm keep up the act as the loses piled up? What about then? Would he pout? Would his cheeks flush with rage or humiliation? The image of a defeated Storm’s face was clear and stratifying as spring water in Lightning’s mind, his lips curling up into a wolfish grin. Yeah, Lightning decided, that’d definitely be a cute look on Storm.
Lightning fantasizes about putting Storm in his place. He kind of hates himself for it.