Blind Fight Date? Blind Fight Date!

Arsene had to hand it to Oleander and the Church of Sulfur for their creativity. The blind dates were going off without a hitch with buns were pairing off left and right. It seemed as though the Burrowgatory would have a successful Matentines this year. Yet, the pride bun thought maybe the Church had gone a little *too* far with their blind date ideas.

He came across the blind date bulletin board, looking over the various date places for buns to go. Some included: a romantic dinner date, a quaint picnic in the park, and a cute cafe meet up for that traditional vibe. His golden eyes focused, however, on the empty list for . . . fight clubs? A sigh escaped him. That's not how those worked, he thought.

Still, part of him was curious and for the sake of saving the priestly bun some face, signed up for it anyway and was currently at the fight club as mentioned, though he saw no one when he arrived.

"I shouldn't known..." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Though he would have loved to have warmed up to fight someone- who in their right mind would have wanted to fight instead of looking for someone to mate with?

---

A fight club as a blind date spot? Sign Damian the fuck up!

Granted, he was some level of aware that that...might not be most buns' kinda thing. However, what that *also* meant was that he'd probably get along quite well with anyone that *did* show up. Worst case scenario he'd probably get a couple of good, fun fights in... And probably need to blow steam off elsewhere, but still! Good, fun fights!

Imagine his disappointment when he showed up...no one was really here. He wasn't *that* early, was he? He'd look at his watch, but he didn't wear one, so--

Hmm... There did seem to be at least someone else here. And, hey, maybe more would come in over time? Until then--

Wait.

As Damian started to make his way over, he suddenly found himself wondering if he didn't know this bun from somewhere. He couldn't land on a name, but looks-wise? It was on the tip of his tongue. Or...memory? Either way. Instead of opening with the cheesy line he had thought up, what ended coming out was a somewhat blunt, questioning, "Where do I know you from?"

---

Before Arsene can turn to leave, he was quickly intercepted and approached by another bun. He reflexively turns, crossing his arms at the brusque questioning. From before? Truthfully, the pride bun couldn't recall if they had ever met before. Arsene sized the other up too, trying to recall if they had met elsewhere. Another fight club? A fight, in general? A mission gone wrong? There were too many probabilities, too many things that Arsene could berate himself for. Instead, he chooses to answer with a safer, more expected response.

"Used to be a fighter back in the day," He responds calmly, gauging the other's reaction to this revelation. "A damned good one too. Well, until I decided to retire early. Been mostly training new folks or my own crew so maybe you watched an old fight of mine?" The teal bun shrugged and uncrossed his arms, the defensiveness all but gone now.

"If not-- honestly? No clue. I didn't think I really had a reputation to begin with. I'm not some champion fighter but I got lucky most of the time."

---

Fighter, a fighter, fighting related...

Damian crossed his arms; eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about this. It didn't help that his own past was pretty much riddled with all kinds of fighting, so to pinpoint any one point in that time specifically... Still, even with a fight riddled past, this one must have left *some* kind of impression on him during that time for him to care, for lack of a better way to phrase it--

Suddenly, a flash of realization and a snap of his fingers, "Arsene?"

It had to be, right?

---

Arsene figured he could make his way across, at least, to maybe grab some drinks for the both of them. They were going to be here for a little bit right? If the gym was empty and the others put so much work into getting it reserved, Arsene wasn't about to take their good will for granted. Well, not until his name was called. He paused and looked up towards the other, curiously.

It's one thing if someone close to him called him or anyone from work- but for a bun he just met to call him by his name made him a little concerned.

"...sure is." He murmured, turning to stare at the other a bit more intently this time. The pride bun made his way closer, as though he were back to sizing him up. "Why? Y'know me from somewhere?"

---

Oh damn, he was right? That…was kind of impressive even to him honestly, which probably showed on his face. Said surprise did not last very long though, and was quickly replaced with a, for now, low-key kind of excitement.

“Think I remember seein’ a couple’a your fights back in the day. S’impressive.” He replied; doing his best to recall what he could from his memories. Fighting that left an impression on him, asking around for a name, trying to find a way to *be* in one of those matches against him… Probably also getting himself into a good bit of trouble in the process. Maybe … Absolutely. He’d been determined, but alas. “...so you’re retired now, huh?” There was a hint of solemn disappointment in his voice as he repeated Arsene’s words from earlier. His grin faltering a little. “Explains things.”

Still… “...but you still train others, yeah? So you still have some fight in you left?” He questioned. He had to, right? Why else would he be here of all places? So many potential date spots that *actually* fit occasion… And they were *here*.

“Oh, and ‘m Damian by the way.” It was only fair to introduce himself, too, yeah?

---

His gaze is scrutinizing yet offers nothing that’s judgmental at its core. There’s this welling of pride he thought he long abandoned when the other mentioned his past fights. For a moment, it’s like he’s back there in the ring, squaring up against a faceless opponent he can no longer remember. His fingers itch, remembering the sensation and thrill of it. Just as quickly as it comes, however, it settles into a blossoming shame and guilt he’s all too familiar with. It’s not as bad as it was when he first retired but here, in this place, he can’t help himself.

“Mm.” He hums in confirmation to being retired. When the other follows up however, his furs bristle and skin hot with irritation. It was rare for anyone to hit him where it hurt but this might be as close as it’s ever gonna get.

“Honestly, the big, headliner stuff? That ain’t my style anymore.” He turns his gaze to the empty ring before them, steadying his nerves as he casually leaned onto a pillar closest to him. “Trainin’ and recruitin’s important. Helps keep the fight clubs open and busy. New blood, all o’ that.” Comes his wayward explanation. Arsene imagines the buns under his care, those he helps get into the circuit, and how he channels the energy he can’t otherwise get out normally onto them.

“But I might. For the right bun.” He follows up coolly, nodding towards the other. “Damian. Can’t say I’ve heard of ya–though if we have fought before, can’t say I remember either. Memory’s gone to shit since I retired.”

He motions ever closer to him until they’re only feet apart. The hellfire bun’s presence is an intimidating force up close but he doesn’t make any impulsive gestures. Instead, he extends a hand out to him for a handshake.

“I’d be down for a fight if you are. Hell, I don’t even care if we were supposed to be on a blind date or whatever- if you’re lookin’ for a fight, I’ll give you one. Might as well make use of the space while we got it, huh?”

---

Wild how no fighting was happening, yet Damian still felt a blow to his ego.

Still, it did kinda make sense that Arsene had never heard of him before. Not only had he never gotten his chance to fight him before he retired, but back then he'd been more of a troublemaker punk that indiscriminately picked fights with whoever, whenever. It was only a good deal later that he'd gotten picked up and found himself where he was now. Still doing the thing he enjoyed, though more…organized, if sorta niche. With a bit more purpose. If you could call it that. Sure he still seemed to be plenty in the game still, what with recruiting and training and all that, but… S’not really the same, y’know?

He’d live, though. Especially if this was going where he hoped it was going. It was only when he heard Arsene speak the words he was most interested in hearing that he formally broke out into his usual grin and clasped their hands together into a firm shake.

“Always.” Was his admittedly pretty eager response. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, though. Y’tellin’ me two buns duking it out in the ring ain’t romantic as fuck? Pfff.” He joked in a calmer manner. …especially considering the way he’d learn to fight over time, though it still probably took a certain kind of bun to appreciate it.

Motions were made to get into the ring and get things started. A moment to take it easy, breathe out a puff of golden smoke and actually take this serious. Because this was serious to him. Whether this would be a good, clean match, or something a little special…? Well, they’d find out soon enough, wouldn’t they?