Eyes ablaze, blood pounding in his ears; he's fuming. It's as clear as day and the first to notice is none other than Hunter Helmsley. Cerebral assassin; Viper tamer.
"Randy."
He is much like a predator; calculative slyness as his modus operandi. Veteran senses for an edge against competition when surrounded by ropes.
"Randy, look at me."
Every piece of furniture in the vicinity is liable to break at his hands at this point. This dangerous point where, to Randy, there is no differentiation between right and wrong. He's teetering at the edge.
"Randy. Orton. Look at me."
He stops. Large hands cup his chiseled face and he's forced to make eye contact, even as his chest heaves still, even as his heart pounds within that chest.
"Not now," Hunter tells him. "No. Save this for when the time is right. I promise you- look. I promise you, everything you're feeling will have all the freedom to release by the right outlet. Okay? The right outlet. Imagine what can happen if it all comes out in one burst, Randy. All at once; imagine. Simmer down and level yourself. You're The Viper, The Apex Predator, controlled and capable. Control your capabilities."
The intensity of Hunter's eyes matched his own in the beginning, but now they're overpowering; gleaming with promise.
He dips his head, the fury diminishing.
