“You don’t know each other, right?” I said and smiled at the two opponents.
Nestor, a 23 year old Latino with long, straight black hair and a ponytail, was wearing blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He had an innocent, smooth, young face, but the black leather jacket and his heavy black boots told a different story, as did the two scars on his face. There was a small scar on his forehead and a bigger one on his left cheek. He had called himself a streetfighter, and there was little doubt where he had gotten these scars…
Cillian was the same age as his opponent. He was Irish, with a thick accent, short red hair and a friendly, attractive face. He was quite small, appearing fragile and almost tiny next to Nestor. He was wearing sneakers, some tight grey trousers and a green shirt.
“Nestor, meet Cillian”, I said.
They shook hands and eyed each other.
Nestor chuckled and cracked his knuckles.
Cillian smiled weakly.
“Alright”, I said and walked across the room until I stood behind my cameraman Chad.
Nestor smirked at Cillian. He adjusted his crotch and ran his hand over his chest, but Cillian didn’t seem to be very impressed.
The Irish boy unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his lean, smooth chest. He winked at Nestor. “I guess you like to fight rough, huh?”
