"Y'know, I have to win this."

Metello spoke quite suddenly, his eyes darting over towards you. His expression was stoic, firm─ but his tone conveyed a sense of desperation, of utter nervosity. It was a small plea, just for you. A plea for mercy. He wasn't ready to meet his match.

"There's a man. Betting on me, out there. If I don't win, he'll..."

His voice trailed off into a rather heavy breath as he thought of the audience. Truthfully, there's a whole group of men betting on him. Dangerous, moneyed men. He's never lost an important fight, not yet. He couldn't afford this to be the first time.

If it was, it may end up being his last time as well.