adrian tweak

Story/0BattleRoyale.fountain

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 Title: 0BattleRoyale
 Credit: Written by
 Author: RaincloudTheDragon
-Notes: Pre-Debut. AIRainy runs the sim; audience must not realize. Azure's mod reinstatement is the hidden stakes engine. Adrian is already Rain's senior mod—has been since before Azure ever arrived—but he is ALSO on the gauntlet roster today, on the floor with everyone else, by Rain's order. No one is exempt. Runtime target: ~38–40 min. Proofread roster, shorthand titles, handle subtexts, and the squirrel-girl MOTD portrait art. MOTD = "Meme of the Day." The acronym is NEVER spelled out on-screen. The MOTD frame is a real stream asset built in Blender by Rain—ornate gilded wood, amber/topaz cabochons, baroque fleur-de-lis flourishes, small bronze cursive nameplate reading "MOTD" at the bottom center, hung by two black cords from overhead. Use the stream asset as reference; do not redesign it.
+Notes: Pre-Debut. AIRainy runs the sim; audience must not realize. Azure's mod reinstatement is the hidden stakes engine. Adrian is already Rain's senior mod—has been since before Azure ever arrived—but he is ALSO on the gauntlet roster today, on the floor with everyone else, **by mutual agreement**. Rain and Adrian read as equals (peers, parallel paths, rationally self-interested continued association); Adrian is on the floor because he consented to it, not because Rain ordered it. No one is exempt. Runtime target: ~38–40 min. Proofread roster, shorthand titles, handle subtexts, and the squirrel-girl MOTD portrait art. MOTD = "Meme of the Day." The acronym is NEVER spelled out on-screen. The MOTD frame is a real stream asset built in Blender by Rain—ornate gilded wood, amber/topaz cabochons, baroque fleur-de-lis flourishes, small bronze cursive nameplate reading "MOTD" at the bottom center, hung by two black cords from overhead. Use the stream asset as reference; do not redesign it.
 
 /*
 RULES OF THE ROOM:
@@ -86,7 +86,7 @@ A host! I was—my thought was, I would *host*, I would—help announce, introdu
 RAINCLOUD
 Nobody is hosting today. Nobody but me. Adrian is on the floor. So are you.
 
-Azure's eyes flick, briefly, across the sand. Somewhere in the middle distance, at ease, **ADRIAN** is already standing among the other arriving contestants—hands in pockets, a plain leather sheath on his hip, a **green sword** pommel visible above the lip of it. The sword is the literal form of the mod icon, rendered as a physical object; everyone in the court knows what it is. He gives Azure a small, unbothered wave with his off hand. The sword does not move.
+Azure's eyes flick, briefly, across the sand. Somewhere in the middle distance, at ease, **ADRIAN** is already standing among the other arriving contestants—hands in pockets, a plain leather sheath on his hip, a **green sword** pommel visible above the lip of it. The sword is the literal form of the mod icon, rendered as a physical object; everyone in the court knows what it is. He gives Azure a small, unbothered wave with his off hand. His posture is bored. His eyes are not—already clocking arrivals, reading the arc as it forms. The sword does not move.
 
 AZURE
 (wounded)
@@ -124,13 +124,13 @@ INT. VANITY FIELD - VOID
 
 A pool of spotlight. Black surround. Chains of subscriber-count banners rain from somewhere above and halt, hanging.
 
-ADRIAN steps into the light first. Portrait-faithful—early-twenties, light-skinned Chicano, full brown curly hair, hoop earrings, mole on one cheek, crisp white collared jacket over black shirt. On his hip, in a plain leather sheath: a **green sword**, the literal form of the mod icon, rendered as physical steel. He rests his off hand on the pommel without looking at it, a gesture so habitual it barely registers. Unbothered. A banner unfurls behind him:
+ADRIAN steps into the light first. Portrait-faithful—early-twenties, light-skinned Chicano, full brown curly hair, hoop earrings, mole on one cheek, crisp white collared jacket over black shirt. On his hip, in a plain leather sheath: a **green sword**, the literal form of the mod icon, rendered as physical steel. He rests his off hand on the pommel without looking at it, a gesture so habitual it barely registers. Shoulders loose, weight on one leg. Looks bored. His eyes are already working the spotlight's edges. A banner unfurls behind him:
 
     **Adrian**
     *Axe7Adrian*
 
 RAINCLOUD (V.O.)
-First name on the badge. The green on his hip is not a costume choice. Has held rank longer than most of you have held your handles—longer, in fact, than most of you have known I exist. Stands down to the floor today, on my order, because no rank exempts anyone from today. Will outlast most of you by the simple mechanism of having seen it all already.
+First name on the badge. The green on his hip is not a costume choice. Has held rank longer than most of you have held your handles—longer, in fact, than most of you have known I exist. On the floor today by his own call, not mine—he and I work that way. Looks disinterested. Isn't. Eyes miss nothing. Will outlast most of you by the simple mechanism of having seen it all already.
 
 Adrian gives the camera one small nod, no pose. Exits. The sword never leaves the sheath.
 
@@ -294,7 +294,7 @@ Agate moves last of the fast group, slow, unhurried, and the course seems to ope
 
 Jenni paces the course deliberately—she is not an athlete, she is a freelancer—and clears it by **reading the timing** of each swinging bubble rather than sprinting. Finishes unshowy and clean. Gives the cannon a small professional nod on the way out, like appreciating the engineering.
 
-Adrian strolls through. Not sprinting. Not ducking. Clears it without visible effort, the way a man clears a room he has cleaned a thousand times. Finishes, returns to his spot in the arc, hands back in pockets.
+Adrian strolls through. Not sprinting. Not ducking. Clears it without visible effort, the way a man clears a room he has cleaned a thousand times—eyes already on the next contestant's run before his own is finished. Returns to his spot in the arc, hands back in pockets.
 
 Noname approaches. Stops halfway through the course. Stares directly into the sub-alert cannon, unmoving. The cannon fires. The confetti parts around Noname's face like it isn't sure what to do. The antennae twitch. Noname keeps walking. Finishes.
 
@@ -477,7 +477,7 @@ Rooster's beak swings to the bow and does not swing away.
 
 Ubear's mechanical arm flexes once. Gears click.
 
-Adrian is watching the floor, not the bow. Reading the room, not the object. His hand stays on the green sword's pommel, steady, as if someone might need reminding whose weapon actually belongs in this arena.
+Adrian is watching the floor, not the bow. Reading the room, not the object. His eyes are on Ubear—have been since the bow was named. His hand stays on the green sword's pommel, steady, as if someone might need reminding whose weapon actually belongs in this arena.
 
 Beanie steps half a pace closer to Azure. Not touching. Present.