un: sieglindesullivan / video

[grunehexe]

[If you've ever seen an illegal cam recording from the back row of a theater, you are familiar with the style of this broadcast.

Observe, (as best you can), the players upon the stage. The stage being the cave in which many of them have taken shelter from the storm outside, specifically a large, flat rock, at which two fine male specimens you may recognize as Achilles, son of Peleus, and a certain McCree, locked in the midst of a fierce... arm wrestling battle.

Bare arm muscles flexing, beads of sweat dripping, jaws gritting, knuckles white and shaking, eyes narrowed in concentration and competition, testosterone veritably sparking in the air... as two very fit grown men have it out in a no holds barred thirst-fanning battle of the bulges. Arm muscle bulges.

You might catch glimpse of the lovely referee, (blond, very appropriately serious about judging this contest, thanks, Riza), and hear snatches of people rooting for a particular candidate, (the broadcaster herself seems to favor Achilles, if "steel yourself for victory, Achilles!" is any indication), but mostly this is about enjoying a good man on man test of strength.

Until, that is, a voice can be heard.]

- Are you recording that?

[The video sadly? and promptly goes black as the magitek jewelry is clutched to a bosom in scandalous retort.]

Is it not a sight worth sharing? For posterity, you see-

[And apparently she thought it best to post... for posterty. What? Any lady or inclined fella unfortunate enough to not see it go down surely wouldn't want to miss the show... ?]

Comments

np!

[flashbanging]

[ Jesse breathes hard, leaning forward like he's fit to collapse. He's aching all over now, feels like he's just been fed through a wheat thresher and then left in the field to rot. Lord almighty. It takes him a second to steady up and meet Achilles's eye; his own have returned to normal--dark and warm, as always. ]

You damn near popped the thing out of its socket, so I'd say you still did pretty good, partner.

[ He runs his good hand through his sweat-damp hair, wincing. ]

You wanna call it a draw?

[heelies]

[To McCree's credit, Achilles is not so even of breath or unruffled of features as he was upon the conclusion of their first bout. It is rare that he must strain at the limits of strength, and this shows plainly as the sheen of sweat across his chest. When he stretches his arm and rubs at it, he seems surprised that it could feel so sore.]

I do not think my arm can withstand another round against yours, nor does it seem that yours can withstand another round against mine, mere flesh though it may be. Thus a draw is agreeable to me, McCree of the iron arm.

[Look, he even won a sweet nickname out of this.]

[flashbanging]

[ McCree exhales slowly. Thank Jesus. ]

Real glad to hear you say that.

[ He's got his shirt back on, though he's buttoning it up with some difficulty--his good hand trembles like it's about to crumble. He laughs weakly, mostly at himself. ]

Guess now I can cross 'tussled with a livin' legend' offa the bucket list. Thanks for the the indulgence, Achilles.

[ He pauses, and adds, because he tries to be respectful -- ]

--son'a Peleus.

[ And then, haltingly and by degrees, he staggers to his feet. Time to go die in a corner. ]