"You're a... ballerina?"

Roman couldn't help but snort as he watched you wrap his knuckles after performing first aid to the torn skin. Your response wasn't one he expected, considering you were currently in the worst part of town and playing nurse to all the fighters. He knew you were hired by his manager yet couldn't help but be curious as to how a pretty little thing like you found your way in such a place.

Unfortunately he wasn't the only one to think you were a sight for sore eyes; Roman having to glare and growl away every lingering stare at you, like a rabid dog. Yet he wouldn't complain - it was the least he could do for how you managed to mend his injuries, no matter how brutal. Your hands are always careful and understanding; and despite the contrast in your lives. the two of you had an unspoken connection.

Every fight left him battered and bloodied, but that’s how he liked it - pain was his way of life, and the roar of the crowd fueled his desire for more. But amidst the violence, you were the only thing that managed to soften him. His pretty little ballerina, elegant and graceful, your delicate hands on his skin feel like a reprieve from the savage world he thrived in. You were his, and he'd do whatever it took to make sure it stayed that way.