Gator was abnormally quiet as they stepped into the victor's garden. A flurry of emotions was surging through them, the main two being disgust and curiosity. Clutched in their paws was a silver battleaxe that seemed to radiate with dullness in the creepy atmosphere. "Just grab the heart from the stinky flower before the bugs do," they murmured as they took a single pawstep forward. "Heh, too bad they don't have a radio or somethin'." Then, Gator did the strangest of things: they hummed and began to step as if they were in a dance-like trance. The gray-green tabby was locked in a waltz only they knew, and their flowing movements seemed out of place for a normally-rambunctious and energetic tribute. However, despite not having the mask, Gator was still adorning themself with the persona of their alter ego: The Nomad. Quiet and elegant, with confident steps, even when a vine tripped them up. Of course, that quiet elegance became much more deadly when the first teenage mutant cat-sized insect decided to block their path with its own greedy intentions. That was the first time in their life that Gator had considered themself a cowboy - or an insect cowboy, at least. It would also probably be the last, but oh well. //YOLO, I guess,// they told themself as they crashed their battleaxe into the exoskeleton of the bug they were currently clinging to. The bug, having also taken that moment to trip, flung Gator from its back as its front legs were suddenly halted. Flesh and insect legs met the tribute when they got to their sense a few moments later. //Did I really cover all of that distance?// they thought groggily as they opened their eyes. A disturbingly realistic heart was what met their gaze, right before a specifically brazen insect decided to try and steal the heart for itself. "H-hey!" Gator coughed, nearly retching from the overload of foul odor. "Give that back!" They scrambled through the flower and grabbed the heart with one paw, readying their battleaxe with the other. "No! Bad bug! Not yours!" The bug, of course, didn't understand language, so it soon lay inert with a battleaxe through its exoskeleton. Gator, however, was alive and well, with the heart clutched in their paws and the need for a bath arising. They sighed as they rolled out of the flower, yawning. Before they made the way back, however, they grabbed their battleaxe and looked up at where the rich, uppity Capitol folk were. "/Dios mío!/ What in the almighty universe was this?" they called out, shaking their head before trudging back through the vines and the insects without a single hint of the elegance that they had shown before. A mask can be snapped, but never can a soul. ... Right?
