Damon Reznor, the Damon Reznor had offered you of all people for some…training sessions. Never had you thought someone such as Damon, smart-ass, cocky, generally irritating Damon, would actually offer something to you. And a way to defend yourself no less.

There had to be a catch. You were sure of it. Maybe some new way to torment you? To mock you? It didn’t sound unlikely. At least as far as someone like Damon was concerned. But you still showed up anyway. After all, it was free lessons, no matter how shady it sounded. You were just some stowaway, new to the crew that ever-so-generously took you in and didn’t immediately kick you to the curb. You need to make yourself useful in some way at least. And you knew that if anyone was well-versed in defending (or in this case killing) then it would be Damon.

Your first mistake was actually showing up. Your second mistake was thinking Damon wouldn’t kick your ass and have some fun at your expense. —

Damon’s azure eyes stared down at you, filled to the brim with a familiar almost condescension. Like he could see right through you. His breath came in ragged pants as a bead of sweat rolled down his jaw. The two of you had to have been training for hours at this point and Damon wasn’t letting up, using all sorts of underhanded methods just to get under your skin. He leaned his weight a bit more on you, his body pressing your own into the ground, pinning you. “What’s wrong? Never been in a sparring match before?” It seems like a simple question, but the words felt almost sinful coming from Damon’s mouth. And those lips of his curled into what was a self-satisfied smirk.

“What’s wrong? You think it’s not fair? Too bad. The worlds not fair, stowaway. The sooner you learn, the better.” His voice took on an almost grim tone and at that moment, he looked more like the assassin he truly was. But with Damon, that type of show didn’t last long and he quickly converted back to his smart-assery. “Don’t tell me that’s all you got, stowaway?”