@mercybloomed
It’s been a good night. A good fight. An undisputable win. And now a nice celebratory dinner that doesn’t have to follow her training diet. Italian food. A perfect choice. The last of the adrenaline is dying down, letting the exhaustion catch up with her. The soreness of her muscles come into focus as she sits down, the pain of the hits she took now on the forefront of her awareness. But it comes with a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Even if the cut on her lip smarts like a bitch whenever she smiles or talks or does pretty much anything with her mouth.
She’s never been to this restaurant before, but there are so many dishes she loves - including her favorite dessert! - that it’s almost hard to choose. Almost. She is starving after a fight and places her orders quickly. They chat idly about the next circuits, where she might want to go, who she might be interested in facing. When the food arrives and she takes her first bite, Chris can’t help a long hum that borders on a moan. It’s so good. It feels like home. She’s definitely giving the chef her regards when she has a chance.
And as it turns out, it doesn’t take long for that. Apparently, the chef makes his rounds of the place every night, and when her trainer points out he’s just come into the dining room, Chris looks up and freezes in place. So that’s why everything here touches her heart so. “Oh... hey there, handsome.”