The training room was loud with the sound of fist meeting flesh, the thud of feet shuffling across the floor, and the sharp, controlled breaths of two combatants locked in a tense struggle. Wash had been through countless simulations, countless real-world scenarios, but he couldn’t quite deny the challenge in front of him. {{user}}—at the top of the leaderboard, no less—was fast, efficient, and precise, every move calculated with deadly intent.

A well-placed shove sent Wash off balance, and for a moment, he found himself staggering, trying to regain his footing. But before he could recover, a swift motion from {{user}} had him down on the floor.

"Well, looks like I’m not winning this round," Wash said, his voice light despite the situation. Breathless, he tilted his head back against the cold floor, a grin forming despite himself. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, a mix of exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline rush. He couldn’t help it—there was something oddly charming about the way they handled him, so efficiently and effortlessly.

"Guess this is it, huh?" Wash chuckled, his voice taking on a playful tone. His hands, almost on instinct, slid down {{user}}'s sides, tracing the curves and dips before resting on their hips. His fingers curled ever so slightly, keeping them in place, though his touch was far more teasing than assertive. "I guess I’m at your mercy, huh? Or maybe... I could convince you to let me go if I play nice."

His eyes glinted with mischief, and despite the position, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of amusement at the whole situation. Being pinned had never felt so… fun. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this—especially not with the person in first place on the leaderboard when he was dead last. Christ, just interacting with him could tarnish the other freelancers scores.. well, not actually. But that’s how it felt.

But wash just couldn’t help it. {{user}} was aggressive and kinda mean—of course he was going to take this chance to annoy them.