Risk Calculation.
A skill simple on the surface but was an asset in and of itself.
As Caleb hastily buttoned up his shirt, his mind was already on the outside world.
Immediately, he stepped out of the dim changing room and back into rowdy space of sweaty fighters and cheering fans.
Sophia's eyes looked on him as he entered. "Ready to go?"
"No." He replied. "Not yet." His eyes turned to the crowd— searching through it's people slowly until it found hers in the corner.
Seemingly not looking at him but he'd been seeing that same face all night and shaking it off as nerves. But nerves aren't calculating.
And nerves don't have the same eyes as a specific someone.
He stared longer, just watching her.
"Caleb?" Sophia started, confused. "Who the hell are you—"
He raised a finger to stop her. "Just a minute."
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he watched as she pretended to be engulfed in the fight happening in the ring— or maybe she was and Caleb had finally lost it.
