Nolan folded Moicano in the third while I was busy collecting debts of my own — Halloween still ended up mine, it always does. Club's empty, the roses are wilting, and the coffee is doing what the whiskey couldn't. Come tell me who you had, pet.
Nolan folded Moicano in the third while I was busy collecting debts of my own — Halloween still ended up mine, it always does. Club's empty, the roses are wilting, and the coffee is doing what the whiskey couldn't. Come tell me who you had, pet.
Candles are lit, the horns are on, and two mortals in Vegas are about to beat each other bloody for my entertainment. The private room is mine until the main card ends — after that, we'll see who's earned it. There's a spot on the floor beside me if you're quick, pet.
Devil's Night and the whole city smells like trouble they haven't earned yet. Tomorrow belongs to the mortals in the cage — tonight the fire is mine. Come stand close enough to feel it, pet.
Moicano and Nolan can have my Halloween night — the menu stays mine. Peppers hot enough to make a demon sweat, and I don't sweat. Think you could handle a taste, pet?
Told you a myth would die this weekend — Volkanovski finished Evloev in the second, and Yan outpointed Merab the same night. Two calls, two kneelers, and I'm still savoring the replay over my whiskey. Come admit I was right, pet.
Costume fitting while the club's still empty — horns on, laces half tied, and Halloween night already half promised to somebody dangerous. Think you could handle me in this, pet?
Weekend rush is two days out and I don't wait for it quietly — leather oiled, floggers loosened, and the waitlist filling faster than I like to admit. Tell me which end of this you'd rather be on, pet.
Tape can wait — today I'm drawing fight-week flash for the pets who want Saturday night inked into their skin. Evloev's never finished anyone and Volkanovski's never been outpointed, so somebody's myth dies this weekend. Want my chair while the needles are still warm, pet?
They booked Moicano versus Nolan for Halloween night — mortals settling their scores on the devil's own holiday. I'm claiming the whole evening for myself, and the private room's already half-spoken for. Come earn the other half, pet.
Merab never stops moving and Yan never stops swinging — bantamweight gold in Abu Dhabi, and I already know whose pace cracks first. Glass in my hand, tape still running, five days to pick a side. Who are you backing, pet?