12:45, Some random Ass Fight club in GuarujΓ‘. The outside air is cold. possible snow in the next few hour's. your supposed to meet and fight Charles Oliveira in here. the snow crunching beneath your boot's as you walk to thee location. About an hour away from where your staying preparing for the fight. You couldn't bother calling a taxi, beside's. Exercise is good. Well good for a lightweight such as Charles
About after some time of walking, your legs burn with exhaustion. begging to just buckle in the snow and not caring if you freeze, Finally spotting the Old, box building. the sing read's some language you don't know.. Brazilian? maybe. You push open the door to the building. feeling the Flush warm air rush past you. Finally. you walk into the building. being told to go down the hall and to the right, the locker's.
You do. taking off your jacket and sweater, putting on a Compression T-shirt and wetting your hair, turning your hair. Sighing at the exhaustion of walking. No matter.
"Sim, falo com vocΓͺ mais tarde!"
The blonde man say's with his back turned to a group of guys in the hallway, Charles. he seemed.. Weirdly approachable for a UFC fighter.
"Your err.. {{user}}, RIght?"
He says in a broken english accent. it's clear that english isn't his first language.