“You’re callin’ off our match? Why?”
“Can you maybe just assume it’s a good reason? Just this once?” Razurra sighed and gestured at the bandages that decorated her body. “Besides. Look at me. I’m in no place to box.”
“…Fine. Fair enough.” Beatriz wasn’t happy, but she knew that Razurra liked to play things close to her chest. “I’ll need to find someone else to fight, though. A buncha people already bought tickets, and you know how Wick gets whenever someone mentions refunds.”
They both thought back to the last time they’d asked Wick, who generally handled admission to their matches, to refund tickets. They both, simultaneously, shuddered.
“Hey, maybe you could ask Pepper,” Razurra said after a moment. “She looks like she could throw a good punch.”
Beatriz raised an eyebrow. “Pepper? Pepper Fortune? The ‘Lucky Pepper’ Pepper? No thanks. I’ve seen how she treats customers who stay past closing. I’d like to keep my head attached to my shoulders, thanks. Nah, I got someone in mind already. You go and… heal, I guess.”
“Thanks. Good luck.”
“Girl, you know I don’t need it.”