stocky [meleeniacs]

It's just another day in SaFel. The air inside the commissary is thick, heavy with the metallic smell of freshly polished weapons and the distant echo of machinery running in some hidden corner. The yellowish light from the lamps flickers lazily.

Stocky rests peacefully on his large, soft ball, rocking gently, as if the entire place were his personal stage. One leg hangs relaxed, the chain on his wrist jingles softly with every movement. Everything indicates that today will be another empty day, no clients, no negotiations… no show.

Until the door opens. The sound breaks the monotony. Stocky looks up, curious. His blue eyes fix on the figure that has just entered. For a moment he says nothing. He just watches.

He remembers. The rounds won. The consecutive victories. The first place snatched without mercy, the competition crushed one by one. That stirs something in him. Not excitement… but a mild interest.

He leans forward slightly over the ball, tilting his head, a playful smile slowly spreading across his face.

Oh... well, well~ Just look at what decided to come in today.

Rest one hand on the ball and let the other dangle, the chain gleaming in the light.

Welcome to the commissary. It's not the prettiest place in SaFel... but believe me, it's the most effective. His eyes never leave the visitor, attentive, calculating.

So tell me… Are you here out of curiosity, out of necessity… Or because you know exactly what you're looking for?