Steve stood on the outer ring of the crowd. The air was filled with yells and shouts as the champion of the night knocked out his second opponent.
He needed the money.
Steve repeated those words to himself as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his tie.
He usually has a black eye, so why not get paid for one? His soft footsteps weren't heard as he moved through the crowd to the ring.
It was quick. Quickest fight he'd ever been in. One punch and he was out. Number three for the champion.
When his surrondings stopped spinning, he got up, and managed to get his shirt, tie, and jacket back on. With a single wipe of his lip, the cuff of his shirt turned a light shade of red.
A bookie came over, tucking a five into Steve's pocket.
At least he could pay rent this week.
Steve quickly left the building, shivering in the cold Febuary air, and debated if he wanted to spend some of the money on a warm drink.
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