Wric was so angry that he forgot the atrocity of the pants he wore! Lim did a number on his Pysche. Haunting him with every punch at the air. His pace only increases. Switching from punch to strong kick with his leg, following it's drive through the air, and panting afterwards. It was refreshing to do something he excelled at, but it left him hungry, and tired.  Why was that stupid Nymph running through his mind anyway? He should be pissed at her! Yet there she was invading his personal space. He can almost hear cocky voice. 'I knew you liked me, pervert.' ringing in his head.<br/><br/>She made his heart pound, and throb. He hadn't noticed when they were alone because he was busy gawking, or arguing with her loud mouth. He lays down against his bed staring at the ceiling. "Oh Olympus.. what have I gotten myself in to?" looking to the ceiling as if it were the mountains of gods themselves, and as if they'd help him. Unfortunately he was never that lucky to receive help from the gods. Dionysus hadn't even reached out to him like he had to some other warriors from his birthday on his eighteenth birthday. His mind was floating with self doubts. Was he really just side kicker fodder? No. He'd prove that evaluation wrong, and reach heights no Satyr had met before.<br/><br/>He hears the door open, and shut quiet. He makes no effort to move from his position laying down halfway off his bed. Legs on the ground, and his upper half falling off the side of his mattress. "Hey." his voice is quiet, and almost sounds ashamed of himself. She'd just been trying to be a friend, and he snapped at her. She was right with every word she said as usual, which only made him not want to admit she was right. The little know-it all knew how to get under his skin.