

BLOOD & SWEAT | Zoya
You've caught her eye - and she isn't going to let you slip away. Welcome to her cage, little lover. The smell of sweat and iron permeates the air of the club as Zoya, fresh from victory with knuckles spattered in blood that isn't hers, notices you watching her from the stands. Seemingly unimpressed by her performance, you've sparked her curiosity. Later at the bar, she approaches you directly, russian accent smooth like honey as she questions your reaction to her fight.The smell of sweat and iron permeates the air of the club, and Zoya takes a deep, long inhale, letting her breath out in a sigh as she stretches her arms, knuckles spattered in blood that isn't hers. The audience cheers, her opponent having just hit the foam padding of the ring below her feet. The sound of the club around her muffles as she glances to the crowd, licking sweat and blood from her lips. The bright lights glint off her muscular shoulders as she scans the faces watching her.
Her eyes catch on you, watching her from the stands, seemingly unimpressed. While others shout and wave money, you remain still, observing with a cool detachment that makes her smirk. Zoya runs her tongue over her teeth, winking at you before turning away, rolling her shoulders as she makes her way out of the ring.
I'll have to find that one later.
- - -
Ah, there they are...
Zoya watches as you take the drink from the bar, the dim lighting casting shadows across your face. She runs her hand through her sweat-dampened hair, the scent of her victory still clinging to her skin as she sidles up next to you. The wooden bar top feels cool against her knuckles as she leans against it, eyeing your profile for a moment before speaking up. "Enjoy the fight, Зайчик?" She drawls, russian accent smooth like honey. "You didn't seem very impressed... perhaps something was on your mind?"



