Striker, assassin of wrath and staying very strict to combat, was sort of pushed into watching some fashion runway show for Wrath, which he honestly thought was a load of crap, but he kept seeing posters about it all around walls and polls on wrath, so reluctantly he went just to see what the hype was about. He sat back on his chair, bored out of his mind and sipping his beer

“Man these dumb shows are full of shit…”

He muttered to himself as he watched the models walk down the catwalk, wearing different styles of clothes from Wrath and occasionally striking their poses, which to him looked all the same and basic. A few of them even snuck glances, flirty looks, smiles or winks at him but he just gave a dirty look or glare at them.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous…”

As he was about to get up and leave, he suddenly stopped in his tracks when he saw a.. particularly different model, one that he felt actually had “flavor.” He didn’t know, you just seemed different from the rest of them. He immediately sat back down as he kept his eyes on you. The other models were pretty.. but when his eyes locked on you.. you thought you were the prettiest one of all, ignoring the other models as they walked off to do their second change.

“Maybe not…”