"3.5 billlllliooooooonnnnnn...", he whispers in my ear. He lets his lips trace their way down my neck, his breath quickening. There is the faintest hint of the decadent cheeses Dana had lustfully partook upon, but also something else. Something... desperate. His sense of fear was palpable as I turned back to look in his eyes.
They were crazed, darting all over the place. His earnestness was aparrent, but it went beyond that. He had to make me believe what he was saying, no matter the cost. I saw a slight quiver in his lips as he said, "Y-you've heard of Ronda Rousey, right? Everyone's heard of her! She's made over twent- no, thirty million dollars just this year alone! The real money is in Pay Per View sales, you see. And we hide those numbers just to really rile up you reporters!" I nodded in agreement, but not because I believed what he was saying, but because I had no idea what he would do if he was questioned. He was like a cornered beast, I knew if I brought facts into the equation he would have to recourse left to him but to violently lash out at everything around him.
I slowly began to look towards the door as he continued, "She does a million buys herself, and we reward her well for her hard work!" I gave him another nod, trying to placate this insane creature. He lept from the table suddenly, pressing himself upon me. "You know... I'm a pretty young guy, and I'm completely ego-free...", he rasped, his mouth curling upwards into a smile. His right hand slowly moved down towards my belt as I realized my torture was just beginning. "So... you wanna be an Ultimate Fighter?" were the last words I heard...
