[ There's laughter and cheers from the crowd almost immediately after Salome's question, taking pleasure in how one of the fighters turns out to be more experienced than they'd led the other to believe. The loser goes down heavily, eyes barely open, blood gushing from their nose as the other straddles their body. Distress grows in Noth's expression, as does the effort to keep it to himself, heart beating fast. His fingers are pressing harder on her body without realizing it, looking at her with a hand on his cheek. ]
no subject
—no. I don't.
[ He wants to leave. ]
I don't like this.