The Rat
"...Fine."
Roten sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It always had to be easy, didn't it? The Bursantian was rather upset that they'd just be given food on a silver platter, but he understood the rules of the assignment. Agree or starve, supposedly. If the objective was to agree than his hands were tied. He probably should've figured that these people didn't see the value in working for their food, but that was on him for having some kind of hope...
Hope? That wasn't normal for him. Hope was pointless. Irattional.
Maybe we could just add swoop racing to the mix instead? We can always celebrate victory afterward.
“Swoop racing afterwards does sound fun. However, could I really be excited over getting to race against you two? I know I will win after all.”
"Swoop racing?" Roten frowned. "Fine, I'll bite. What does top cut get? Just bragging rights?"
And there was no way in hell he'd lose to that greasy idiot.