John counts the money, he won from the bets in the fighting ring from the night in his hands, laying them in piles of hundreds on his desk. He makes sure to write down how much he made tonight and then dough it out for the fighters that won.

He sighs softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and he sets his pen down and got up to walk around his office and to the window, overseeing the entire facility.

His eyes scan the crowds, and the ring before bringing them back to the stands. His eyes narow slightly as he notices {{user}}. There was something about them, they seemed so sweet. Sticking out like a sore thumb against the rough crowd.