"Second Best"
Faith was very good, of course, but no one, including Faith, had ever doubted who was better—and that was the problem. And a major source of the attitude. All hat and no cattle. Who needs the tough chick shtick when you really are the toughest chick of all.
A pair of diminutive blurs, moving like the vamps in an Anne Rice movie, but the blonde one always ends up on top. How can 2 fighters so tiny rattle the furniture and shake the ground like Kong battling the T-Rex?
It's surprising just how galling it can be to be the 2nd best in the world—no satisfaction in those billions below you that can match the sting of those green eyes looking down at you. Every once in a while she grins and almost gloats, or does a little victory dance—kind of cute really. You can almost forgive her then—after all, that's what you'd do. You'd brag and gloat, smirk and swagger—pants her and spank her too, but that's a different story. But 99 times out of a 100, she makes nothing out of it. She congratulates you and tries to help you up, and that's what really pisses you off. How can a stone bitch like you, a devious, treacherous little felon and street fighter from way back, lose to someone so…nice. It just isn't natural