Caius’ lips turned up into a cheeky smile. “Check, check.” He said into the microphone, when he was satisfied it was on, he took it off the stand and jumped up onto the commentator’s table. “Ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, and people I don’t care about: Hello and welcome to the Bluestone Fighting Tournament, where men and women alike fight for my love.” The twelve-year-old declared, his solitary blue eye smiling at the confused crowd. “Not really, but who knows?” Caius chuckled and sat down on the table, crossing one leg over the other.
“This is our first tight of the tournament! On the right… well, my right, your left, we have Raseri! Yes, that mighty looking man pumping his fist in the air. Is he compensating or does he really have big hands?” Caius paused to blow a kiss to Raseri. “And on my left, and your right, we have Martyrdom! Similarly minded to myself, although much more French and he’s not nearly as cute.”
Caius stood back up once more and pulled out a blue handkerchief out of his pocket and struck a pose reminiscent of flag girls in car races. “The fight begins on three. Make sure to play nice boys.” Caius chuckled innocently. “One. Two Three!”