A longer intermission, but not nearly as peaceful as the natural gaps between battles. The chaos churns and doubles, it’s time for lunch. Contestants amass in the chapel, a few to the green outside or the cloisters in the inner layers of the church. If they have the money, the wooden tables of the upper viewing deck are also an option - and a good number do have plenty of money.

“Should we get up?” Ritz asks anxiously as a group of revellers batters the back of his chair as they pass. One hits, then another, then another, then another.

“We’ll lose our table,” Magnus says.

He’s escaped into the sights of his phone.

Uriel throws his hands up and loudly curses the next diner to drive their elbow into his temple. The words are devoured by the uproar. There’s no bloodlust in this chaos, no polarizing blows that ensure only one half spoke at a time. It was a constant, uniform roar of all sides.

“I think Val would be eating outside,” Ritz chokes out painfully.

“Why’s that?” Magnus asked.

“I… It’s lunch, he’d want to eat… I’ve seen him eating grass before.”

"On the grass?"

"No, eating... wait, I'm confused."

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Uriel howls, “You just want to leave. And so do I.”

“You two go for a walk, then,” Magnus says. Projecting his voice is something he’s used to. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Uriel points an accusing finger. “You’re hardly even making an effort to look!”

“Not much point, in all this. If I wanted to get up and head anywhere I’d probably get trampled.”

“I’m going outside,” Uriel says, rising up. Chest puffing in indignation, he heads for the stairs and is instantly flattened against the brown wall by a large man with a tray, backed against a group of office ladies, who all also immediately become stuck in the human gridlock.

“What’s he doing?” Ritz says incredulously.

“I barely know what I’m doing, with all this racket.”

"What?"

"Can't FUCKING hear myself think," Magnus said.

Ritz chews holes in his leftover bread. “You can’t hear yourself think. Val said that to me once too, it sounded pretty good.”

“That’s a common phrase.”

“Is there a common cure?”

One of their cups is finally rumbled with so much force it splashes to the ground and rolls off the edge of the balcony, into the Ring below.