She leaned forward in her seat a bit as Deadblood issued his challenge to the mulleted pencil-mustached man who wore more makeup than she did even on an off day. What did he think he was doing? He was here to carry out a job, not participate in a title match. As asinine and unnecessary as she’d found the assignment at first, perhaps the company had foreseen such a thing occurring and had acted wisely in sending her along after all.

Of course there was nothing she could do about this apparent disregard for orders at this very moment. She didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention whatsoever, and it wouldn’t be prudent to do anything with him in the ring, with all of those eyes focused on him.

And maybe, just maybe, things were not as they appeared. Maybe this was simply a tactic on Deadblood’s part, and she shouldn’t be so hasty to write him off so quickly. Maybe he felt the same way she did, and intended to carry out the job away from so many prying eyes, and this was only a clever ruse.

She continued to watch, eyes riveted on the masked man.