Bane breathes heavily, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. He's snapped his bamboo stick in half and it dangles now from his lips. The heat is getting to him and wearing him down, thick fur more accustomed to wind and kinder temperatures.

Fortunately, he is not the first to fall. He reclines on his heel, taking a step back to brace himself and catch his breath. He watches, expression placid, as the Ninetales attempts to come up with another attack. It dies in the beasts throat, and is followed immediately by her fall. He grunts, satisfied, before glancing back at Remi.

Remi, on the other hand, is looking at Xander. She sucks in a breath as if she's been holding it, and her face lights up with genuine relief and a little bit of giddy happiness. It wasn't that she had come in here expecting to lose- but she definitely hadn't come in here expecting to win, either.

Roman had always been the winner. The bigshot. The brains and the brawn. He had the power, the drive, the hunger.

She had merely been watching him succeed, and now here she was, following him and making him proud.

"Y-yes! Sure. I, uhh-- I've never had a painting done of me before."

But it feels good to think about it, her face on a wall in an art gallery. So she retains a sort of subtle, smug, proud little look on her face as she approaches him for this photo. She turns the badge over and over in her hand, tracing its shape with her thumb. She squeezes it, and, when Xander isn't looking, she glances up at the sky to mouth something.

This is for you, Roman.

Xander Belmont

☉