Description: Letters sent out to a number of Neo League fighters, though the writing style tended to bring up more questions than answers! Minal Panesh resolves to answer the call, and acquaint herself with the -real- Juliet Pope!
Derrick Pope is a contemptible man, in every sense of the word. The portly 40-something Scotsman seems to be living it up and enjoying the cash that his daughter has been bringing in for him. A brand new leather jacket, designer jeans and a tacky purple shirt can't quite hide the effect that decades of neglect have had on his body. He's balding, his beady eyes peering out from behind a pair of rose-tinted glasses. But the man himself is in high spirits. He's been in discussion with the staff here for some time, and it looks like he's already gotten them to stock some of his daughter's merch, even without a set date for the proposed bout.
There's only one table of it so far, but The Boxing Angel seems like something he is trying to craft into a whole brand. There's a pretty logo of a winged boxing glove, shirts, even an action figure (with real punching action, of course) but of the girl herself... well, there's no sign of that. Derrick had suggested Mint meet him here, to discuss the specifics - maybe hoping that seeing the spread and the stadium will help tip things further in his favour.
Minal Panesh has spent a grand total of... maybe fifteen minutes thinking about merchandising her popularity. Ever. And at least some of that was involved in writing a letter back to the guy she's about to visit.
Light floods in around the pint-sized pugilist's 145cm silhouette as she cracks open the door to the G-King Arena facility. As the door closes behind her, it becomes a bit more apparent that she's left her most famous merchandisable gauntlets behind, opting instead for a pair of plastic hands that are much closer to human standard. She's wearing a leather bomber jacket, a snug-fitting top in pale grey with a sweetheart neckline, a pair of no-nonsense jeans, and Chucks. She doffs a pair of aviator sunglasses, her translucent orange right hand showing up in stark contrast to the natural tones of her attire and her dark, South Asian complexion. Perhaps that's on purpose.
Sunglasses get stowed aside, and... well, it doesn't take long for "Mint" to notice the man in front of the Boxing Angel brand table. After giving the merch a perfunctory once-over, the diminutive brawler throws up her hand in a cheerful greeting.
"Hi! Derrick, right? I'm so glad to finally get to meet you..." Once established, her gaze stays locked onto the Scotsman's, rose-colored glasses notwithstanding.
"Thanks for agreeing to meet me on such short notice. Minal Panesh -- but you already knew that, yeah?" She laughs cheerily. "You've got quite the spread here!"
Nope. She's still not looking at any of it in detail.
"Well if it isn't the star of the hour!"
Derrick laughs right back, and moves to clap Mint cheerfully on the shoulder in a comradely gesture that he definitely hasn't earned. This close, the stench of his aftershave is impossible to ignore. As is the rattle of the gold chain he's wearing around his thick neck, disappearing beneath the shirt. The guy clearly has gaudy tastes - but the letter he'd sent to the woman probably didn't make that too surprising.
"And hey, don't you mention it. My schedule's getting pretty full these days, but for a fighter like you? I'll always find the time and make it work. My girl, she's real excited to fight you. It ain't often she gets in the ring with someone close to her own size, you know? Though, those fists of yours, hah! Rather her than me, if you know what I mean."
He shakes his head ruefully, as though he was making a casual joke and not describing that he's delighted his little girl will get the stuffing punched out of her by fists almost as large as her entire torso.
"Anyway, anyway, before we get down to business, can I get you something to eat? Something to drink? We got Angel Punch, and a pretty good line in fried wings too, you eat meat right?"
Minal's friendly facade is cracked by the clap to her shoulder, that ebullient smile diminishing by several degrees. But the change is short-lived, in comparison to the wince of her nose and eyes to the smell of aftershave permeating throughout the air.
The corporal is quick to take advantage of the brief lull in sales-pitchery made by Derrick's casual 'joke,' chirping out with, "Y-yeah, I can't -wait- to meet her, yeah. Is Juliet here?"
She bristles slightly with the invitation to eat, or drink... -anything- around someone with as much aftershave as this guy. She recovers quickly enough though, hiding her discomfort behind a renewed smile. "Sure, I can give the Angel Punch a try." It's punch. She's good with punch.
"You must be real proud of her. I don't know a lot of dads who would want their little girls doin' this sorta thing. I mean, my dad isn't even crazy about -me- boxing, but what's he gonna do about it?" She laughs -- putting her own spin on the 'rueful' mood.
"Oh, yeah, sure, real proud."
Derrick's comment is half-hearted as he digs around behind the stall and comes up with an off-brand snapple which does, indeed, proclaim itself to be 'Angel Punch'. Somehow, this is supposed to be worth five hundred and fifty yen. Apparently that cutesy logo design he's slapped on everything comes at a hefty markup. He also seems entirely impervious to Minal's disapproval, if he notices it at all, just offering the drink with a smirk.
"She's around someplace." He says, evasively, "Think she's with her trainer or something. I can get her on the phone if you want, but she's not got much of a head for numbers. Probably all the blows to the head. If you wanna talk business, it's better without the kid to get in the way, you know? She just gets bored and makes a fuss."
He's just completely ignoring the idea that Dads can, in fact, be cut out of the business of their kids entirely. Then again, that's probably a lot harder when the kid in question hasn't reached the age of majority yet. Two more precious years for him to wring everything he can out of her.
It's only when the bottle gets brought to view that Mint finally tears her eyes away from Derrick's rose-tinted lenses. She takes hold of the bottle, and a few whirrs and clicks later, she's able to take a sip and sample it.
If she weren't fully used to dealing with stuck-up superior officers, she might have shown more of a sign of distaste. She reminds herself silently: It's -punch.-
"Heh, yeah, I'll catch up with her later, if that's cool. Professional development, and all that." She puts some emphasis, but not much, on the word 'professional.'
She sets the drink down on the counter, and stuffs her hands into her bomber jacket's pockets, casually. "So like, you mentioned 50-50 for the merch, right? I mean, that's a good starting point and all, what with you doing the promo, but... how does that work when I'm a more established fighter? Juliet's done, what, uh... -one- fight so far, with that Demon Queen lady?"
Her smile fades, slightly. "Plus, I mean, I used to work out with the broad side of an M1 ABV as my punchin' bag. You sure you're okay with her goin' toe-to-toe with me?"
Behind those rose-tinted glasses, Derrick's eyes harden ~considerably~ when Mint implies that she wants more than the 50/50 split. His jaw tightens, and he has to take a slow breath to steady himself. Apparently, this is a man who has far less experience hiding his emotions when something rankles him than Mint does. The fact that she brought that up, too, completely swamps every other concern raised. Derrick Pope might not be a fighter, but there are things in this life that he is more than happy to go to bat for.
"One fight in Southtown." He says, sharply. "Juliet's been boxing in Scotland for ages. We've got a following. Don't think for an instant that we're some no-name nothing. You accept the match, we'll do our part to pack out the stadium. Without us, there is no fight. Fifty fifty is a fair split. Against some of these losers who've scraped through into the League this time around, we're only offering them fourty per cent, or even thirty. We've got recognition here, lady. You're good, but you ain't Johnny Cage, okay?"
The question really seems to have gotten under the portly man's skin. He's actually straightened up, as though it is even vaguely possible for him to use his flabby height advantage to intimidate *her* of all people. The question of his daughter's safety doesn't even seem to have registered.
Mint is completely unfazed as Derrick tries to make himself look bigger and badder than she is. He towers over her? That's nothing new, -normal- people tower over her. She smirks back as he runs down the list of accolades.
"Look, man, Scotland's a pretty nice place an' all, but it's a far cry from Southtown, the fighting capital of the world. And we ain't just some scrubs you scared up in the Glasgow want ads." She lets forth a chuckle, shoulders squaring up in a swagger. "Not t'mention, but I've fought against some real nightmares, and it won't in front of no bluescreen."
Her hands slide out of her pockets for a shrug. "Hey, Derrick, at the end 'a the day it's no skin off my nose. I'm just lookin' out for ya girl, a'ight? Like you, uh... how's her schoolwork doin'? You must'a got some pretty posh private schools for her to get the best education, yeah?"
Mint drags the back of her thumb across the bridge of her nose. "Which school's she goin', to, champ?"
Mint has, no doubt, fought all kinds of monsters. Has she ever run into one quite like Derrick Pope, though? He's not trying to kill anyone. He's not trying to destroy the world, or even conquer any part of it. He's a much more banal type of monster. A man who has looked as his daughter, seen a way to use her passion to line his own pockets, and is now determined to do just that.
What might be most surprising, though, is just how stubbornly he's willing to tighten his grip around his little golden goose and hold it tight.
"Trying to squeeze our margin does NOT help Juli any." He says, darkly, "And don't even try to deflect away from the bottom line, here. You said yourself. You ain't any big game in the merchandising business. Now, if you want to be friendly, I can get you in touch with the people who helped design our merch. We can get you set up right next to Juli, and we can both go away with our half, happy."
He dips his head enough that he can look over the tops of his glasses, revealing the muddy brown of his gaze as he stares the fighter down.
"Or you can keep being disrespectful, and I promise, you'll NEVER meet my daughter. In the ring, or out. We don't need bad influences hanging around her."
In the face of such naked disregard for Juliet's best interest, Mint just shakes her head, her smirk gradually fading to a frown. But it's not from being upset that she's being talked down to -- or from the potential loss of her cut.
And she hasn't torn her gaze away from Derrick yet, holding her ground. She folds her arms up, plastic squeaking as it presses past the leather folds of her jacket.
"Okay, hey, let's just take the temperature down a bit, a'ight? Fifty-fifty's fine." She stares back up at Derrick, setting her jaw -- and considering for a good few seconds.
Her proud look sags just a moment, as she steps a half-step closer. Her voice drops low, as well.
"Listen, can you just... lemme talk to her? I wanna at least know who I'm gonna be fightin' here."
Derrick's attitude softens when the woman accedes to his demands. He continues to stare down at her. Maybe, privately, he's wondering if he might be able to squeeze out another ten per cent for the 'disrespect'... but ultimately, he decides that it's better to just take what he's got and leave it there. He nods his head, and his posture relaxes.
"Sure." He says, "I'm glad we could work it out. I know you ain't a bad sort. Just, inexperienced when it comes to business. You ought to get yourself a manager." A smirk, and he pulls out his phone from the inside of his jacket, "And of course you can speak to Juliet. No problem. Just... don't try and fix the fight or nothing, okay? She doesn't like that."
He walks away a few paces as he places the call, and after a moment, shouts back to Mint, "Yeah, she's on her way, her trainer was just about done with her anyway."
Mint holds her ground. She knows what she was offered -- and she knows she's worth that offer. And she's not about to get bullied about on the matter considering the plans she has for her take of the merchandise. And as long as Derrick keeps glaring at her over the rims of those ruby-reds, hazel orbs will be right there staring back at him.
"Yeah." She doesn't deny the charge at all. And if it comes down to it, she already has a 'manager' in mind.
But -- as soon as Derrick turns away, she takes about five steps sideways to take a deep breath of less-heady, less-aftershavey air, slowly clenching and unlenching her left hand. The satisfying sound of servo motors and actuator relays serves as a reminder for what she's actually playing towards, in this case.
"Great, thanks!" is the reply she chirps back with. Those few seconds of breathing seems to have helped her mood, as she starts walking slowly to the door that -ought- to be where Juliet and her trainer would have been practicing. Can never tell in this arena...
"IS THAT MINAL PANESH?!"
The excited cry comes from the next door over, and suddenly there's a VERY enthusiastic Juliet running right towards Mint. The girl isn't wearing her costume for once - she's wearing a simple pair of silver sweatpants, a silver hoodie, and silver sneakers. All of them look a little worn and tatty... but they are also marks born of love, not neglect. This is, clearly, Juliet's training gear, and the embarrassed-looking older woman who was with her must be her trainer.
"Oi, Gabs, word." Derrick shouts, gesturing, and taking the trainer away from the conversation - and it'd be easy to miss the flinch that Juliet has when Derrick raises his voice, if one weren't looking specifically for it.
"Wow." She says, as she finally gets close to Mint. She's smiling, and unlike her father, she radiates genuine emotion. She's bad at hiding that. "Ms. Panesh, I don't want to come off to weird, but can I just say, please, that, personally? I think you're just -- you're such an inspiration to me. I can't believe Derrick actually, got you here. This just all seems too good to be true!" And then she's straightening, and that smile turns a little more cocky, "I guess... I really am going up in the world, huh? It's really happening for me!"
Mint perks up at the sound of her name. It's... something of a surprise to hear it shouted just like that! And as she turns to the sound of the voice, she seems even more pleased that Juliet, like herself, is out of "costume" as it were.
Tangerine-colored hands wave back to the silver-garbed boxer -- and it seems like Mint has completely forgotten about the guy she'd ostensibly been here to talk with, as the lion's share of her hazel gaze is focused entirely on Juliet. The Marine beams in response at all the positive attention, shaking her head side-to-side in a polite deflection of the praise. "Oh, no, it's... surprising, but not weird! Since it's me who should be thanking you for the chance to meet... The Boxing Angel!" The pause is deliberate, as both hands splay out, as if singing out in immaculate chorus. She cracks a wide grin -- for while she might profess to be terrible at marketing, she sure knows how to upsell!
"Haha, yeah, it -is- happening, yeah! I'm so proud you picked the one and -only- fightin' style worth learnin'!" She balls her right hand into a little fist, offering a knuckle-bump to Juliet if she's quick.
"Always glad to meet up with another boxer." She spares a glance past Juliet's shoulder, keeping an eye on Derrick even if she's trying not to make a point of doing so. Juliet's mention of him by his first name did not go unnoticed.
But that's not why she wanted to talk -- and she snaps her gaze back to Juliet with a broad smile. "So how are you likin' Southtown, are you digging it okay?" She shadowboxes a few quick punches to the side. "I am not ashamed to say that I learning from the best and /failing forward/, haha...!"
Juliet fairly preens when one of her fighting heroes uses HER ring name. She'll be thinking on that moment for a long, long time. Even if her career ended tomorrow, there's a part of her that feels such pure joy in the moment that she could feel it had, in fact, all been worth it. "You know it!" The girl shoots back happily, matching the knuckle-bump as quick as she can, and nodding her head eagerly.
"There really is a purity to it, right?" She says, "I did look at a few other styles when I was just starting out, but... in the ring, it's just you and your fists, and that makes it so much easier to concentrate on what's important."
Juliet had, clearly, just been working out, so she doesn't join in with the shadowboxing, but she's still smiling as though trying to light up the whole stadium with her grin. The girl isn't paying her father or her trainer any mind - and the feeling seems to be neutral. Derrick has satisfied himself that Mint isn't any kind of threat, and whatever discussion he's having with Gabriella seems to be quite... intense.
"Southtown is amazing." She says, "I had a fight just the other day, against Mr. Mason -- ah, Aranha, ye know? And, wow. I learned SO much. And I fought the Demon Queen too, she's ..." There's a moment of hesitation, and then she laughs, "Ye ken, I figured she'd be more style than substance? But, ach, she got me real good." That rich Scottish burr is starting to creep in more as she relaxes, watching herself a little less, maybe...
Mint can feel the love! And while it may not be the same kind of purity that Juliet brings up, she can definitely appreciate Juliet's openness and honesty as a breath of fresh air -- literally -- compared to the duplicity and underhandedness of her guardian. And it shows, in the way Mint bobs lightly on the balls of her feet.
"Absolutely! It's been forever since I've had another fighter I can see eye-to-eye with!" She traces two fingers to her temple, then points to Juliet, cracking a lopsided grin. "Straightforward, direct -- nothing to break the concentration, just a battle of wills between you and an opponent. It's -honest-..." She trails off for a moment, bringing a closed fist close to her heart. "And there's nothing else like it in the world. I'm glad you -feel- that. Oh, and hey..." Her eyes go wide, as she steps in closer: "Is it okay if I call you Juliet, or do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"
The mention of "Mr. Mason" slips past the dark-skinned corporal for a moment, though the name Aranha definitely rings more of a bell, with the boxer nodding along in recognition. "Yeah, yeah! ... And -absolutely- not a boxer." She breaks into amiable laughter. "I've always wanted to fight him!" And when the Demon Queen comes up, Mint's nodding slows -- and her face pales a bit. Not from the accent -- growing up where she did, she's used to people with all sorts of accents. "I... don't think I've watched her fight anyone else, but it was a good match! And you got a good whallop in on her there at the end!" She turns to the side so she can pantomime through the -start- of a Miracle Uppercut. (Feathers and wings are a bit out of her wheelhouse.)
"So many awesome fighters to learn from here. And your trainer, huh, she's sure puttin' you through your paces... how do you like her?" She nods her head towards Gabrielle.
Mint bites her lower lip for a moment, before deciding to lean in to the proverbial pivot. "Did... Derrick help you find her, or...?"
Juliet feels her heart swell with pride when Mint starts going through the motion. She and the other boxer are very similar heights, but she holds herself like she's six feet tall - her whole bearing speaking to just how proud she is. Sure. She didn't win that fight. But she'd made her presence felt, she'd hung in there until she could hang in no more. She has nothing to feel ashamed of. In the ring, that's where she really feels she can be who she wants to be; the goals are simple, the path is set. It isn't like life, with all its confusing twists and turns.
"Aye." She says, nodding her head, "I cannae always explain it well, but ... it felt right, ye ken? Those are the moments I love in the fight, where everythin' falls intae place an' it all feels... right."
She tucks her hands back into the pouch of her hoodie as she considers the other questions, "Juliet is great, thanks. What should I call ye?" There's a certain amount of baseline respect, after all, for those who are her elders... but Mint seems so informal, she might not like that! Rude to presume either way. "Gabriella? Aye, she's the best. She really pushed me in the early days. Now, she..." There's a moment of hesitation, and she sighs, "Ach, she worries. She doesnae think that I should be doin' so many fights, ye ken? But she'll stay with me. She was my teacher back in Glasgow, but she came all the way around the world with me. Derrick... doesnae like her much."
That hangs in the air for just a moment, the girl's expression a touch darker as she concludes, "But I willnae let him get rid o' her."
Circumstances have herded Mint into a relatively sedate life in the middle of a lab. Earlier in her life she might have loved such a job, but having been out in the "real world" of military service, touring the world while working on tanks, it just feels... bland and uninspiring. -Fighting-, though, sates her thirsts for travel and enlightenment. And seeing Juliet embarking on a similar journey of discovery fills the New Jersey native with hope -- coupled with seeing that the Boxing Angel is just as much of an angel offstage as her in-ring persona appears to be.
Mint beams back. "That's exactly it, right? When everything just -clicks-, there's nothin' else like that in the whole wide world. It's like the clouds part and the sun shines down and everything just -sings-."
"... Ah, Juliet, then! And yeah, 'Minal' is fine, but you can call me Mint if you like!"
And when Juliet talks about Gabriella, Mint nods along with enthusiasm. "Oh, yeah. Wow. I... I never had just -one- trainer, since they bounced us around between duty stations so much, but like..." The corporal's smile fades, as she keeps speaking in that lower tone. "Honestly, I'd... take her advice on that, if you push yourself too hard you're just gonna end up hurtin' yourself." She looks back intently at Juliet, gauging her reactions -- and treading carefully with her words.
"Yeah, don't. And listen -- I gotta say, I'm happy to fight you, and hell, I -want- to, but Gabriella's lookin' out for you." Her eyes widen, and she measures her words carefully. "For /serious/. So like, just between me an' you, I'm checkin' with her before I sign off on us fightin'."
She steps closer, making sure that Juliet is positioned -perfectly- between herself and Derrick, so that there's no way he can see the serious expression on her face.
"Listen, Juliet. For real." She sucks in her breath, lacing her fingers together, and rocking her thumbs against one another.
"Is Derrick pushin' you too hard? What's his deal, anyway?"
Juliet nods along thoughtfully. It's clear that the young woman really is listening to what the older fighter has to say. She generally assumes that her fellow fighters are more experienced than she is. Derrick might talk up her 'following', but she has no illusions about where she stands on the Road of Champions. She appreciates the other boxer's candour, and it isn't lost on her just how carefully Mint is couching everything, too. She... actually gets the feeling that the other woman cares about her. She doesn't understand why that is, but she appreciates it. Maybe Mint is just... a good person? God knows, Juliet could use a few more of those in her life.
"She willnae go against Derrick." Juliet says, at last. Her smile has faded, her expression far more serious, too. She's a lot of things, but in spite of Derrick's insinuations about the number of blows to the head she's taken... Juliet isn't a total idiot. A little trusting, maybe, but she understands what is happening to her.
"Derrick just wants the cash." She says, bluntly. "An'... I want tae fight. I enjoy it. I'm *good* at it. An' gettin' better every day." She pauses for a moment, and then one hand comes out from inside her hoodie, brushes back through her silvery hair. Those bright, shining red eyes of hers show no trace of guile whatsoever, but she's picking her words carefully too.
"If I do well." She says, "I can apply for a fightin' scholarship, right? I can move out here forever. I can be... what's the word, emancipated? If I fight, I can be free. If I don't bring in the cash, then I don't get to fight. If that happens... back to Glasgow. With Derrick and Mary, and nae Gabriella."
It probably isn't surprising that the girl is so utterly, completely implacable in the final four words.
"That. Will not happen."
Minal just... listens.
She grew up on the streets, with parents who tried their best but barely made enough to make ends meet. And like Juliet, she was short -- meaning that she had to punch above her weight just to keep her head held high. She's seen people at their worst, and seen people at their best. And she knows the signs. She can see Juliet's determination, she can resonate with the pride of fingers brushing through that silvery hair. She recognizes a kindred spirit when she sees one -- even if the circumstances might be totally different.
Mint listens: quietly, resolutely, and without judgment. For Juliet's words matter to her as much as the unspoken body language. She nods back, when appropriate. Cognizant of how -Gabriella- responds to Derrick -- understanding that if the trainer crosses him, she can't protect Juliet any more. Cognizant of how Juliet understands the cards in play -- and how she's working to maintain the best hand possible.
And Mint, finally, smiles.
"Alright. You got a good head on your shoulders, Juliet. I believe in you." And now, Minal understands the score. She sees that the younger boxer is making the best of a questionable situation. And she resolves to do everything she can to help.
And she does so by cracking another lopsided grin, shifting her weight sideways. Maybe Derrick can see her from around Juliet now, or maybe not -- Mint isn't especially concerned.
"But I =don't= want you thinkin' I'm gonna go easy on you in the ring here. If you beat me, it's gonna be thanks to your own skill and dedication. So you best be bringing that 'A' game, a'ight?"
Juliet returns the smile, just as bright and dazzling as the first. "Aye." She says, nodding her head firmly, "Dunnae worry about that, Minal. I always bring my best. When we step intae tha' ring, all o' this..." She gestures, encompassing, in one fell sweep, the grand surrounds, her father, her trainer... the whole world of crushing weight and responsibility which she has found herself pinned beneath, "... It willnae matter any more. It'll be you an' me, an' our fists."
Because, yes, Juliet has a lot riding on her performance within the League. But at the same time... it is a weight that can't touch her. The future will be what the future will be. When she's in that ring, it is the hand of destiny she feels on her shoulder; she knows that there, she will give her all, and whether she wins or loses, the world will see The Boxing Angel, and know what she can do. If she gives her all, it will have to be enough, won't it? She's already good enough that Mint knows her moves, and she landed a blow that nearly knocked the Demon Queen from her throne! She just *knows* that her story won't be one with a bad ending.
And then there's a heavy hand coming down on her shoulder, a possessive clap and squeeze as Derrick's unpleasant aroma invades the fighters' personal space once again. A more, concerned, Gabriella standing back and to the left as he chuckles.
"Well, it sounds like you made a new friend, Juli." Flinch. "Ain't that the sweetest. We oughta get back to your mother, though. She's got the new signups that came in since the last round of letters. Hope your wrist ain't tired, girl."
The rose-tinted gaze turns back to Mint, and he grins, "Ain't she a sweet kid?" He says, "Anyhow. I've given Gabs the paperwork. You give me a call when you know what you want to do about the merch. Can't WAIT to see you two in the ring."
Mint grins, a fire erupting in her eyes at even the mere -thought- of banishing the world away to the purifying floodlights of the squared ring. "Yeah, that's what I like to hear!" It's a notion that's inspiring enough for Mint to extending her plastic fist towards Juliet for a second round of knuckle-bumping. She may have her concerns about Derrick -- but likewise, none of that matters when she can see what power Juliet's -really- packing behind those angelic gloves.
Her enthusiasm flags just a hair as she sees Derrick approaching, a mere moment before he makes his presence known. She nods back -- for now that she knows the situation, she understands that keeping Derrick happy is a -key- component of this entire arrangement. She commits the name Mary to memory, knowing full well it could be relevant later.
"Oh, you got that right. She's an angel!" The corporal flashes a toothy grin.
Though, afterward, despite her smile she raises an eyebrow at the notion of more letter-writing. This time, the normally loquacious pugilist's urge to blurt out something gets the best of her: "Gotta keep up that hustle, yeah?" ... Even if she means that in a different context than Derrick might have.
"Hmm...? Paperwork? Do I gotta sign with Gabriella too?" It's a dumb question, but it's not like Derrick appears to hold boxers' intelligence in high regard anyway. She really just wants to know more about -what- paperwork.
"Yeah, I think I got some ideas." She shares a grin with Juliet -- as Mint is looking forward to the fight as well. "Yeah, same here! It'll be a match for the history books!"
Log created on 10:10:00 04/24/2021 by Mint, and last modified on 15:40:29 04/24/2021.