Whew, this teaching gig was harder than he'd expected! But surprisingly fun to watch his friends running through the communications and miscommunications at the heart of Twelfth Night. The play had always been his favorite of Shakespeare's works, probably because it featured a lady passing as a man to flirt with the male and female co-leads (the perfect wish fulfilment fantasy for the younger him). Twelfth Night would always have a special place in his heart for that, even if that wasn't the lesson he needed it to teach right now.

Reading and playing your opponent. Even more than that, reading and playing the crowd. Those skills had been a key part of his success in the cage; some of the audience would have been content simply to see him rise to the top as the most skilled fighter, but many more would have grown bored if he'd played every fight completely straight. Introducing narrative concepts like back-and-forth, rising stakes, and dramatic climaxes to his fights had been challenging, yes (taking unnecessary hits to sell the idea that he was an underdog was only slightly less dangerous when it was intentional), but it had kept the audiences on the edge of their seats. A happy audience was a returning audience, and a returning audience meant his cut of the profits was larger than ever.

Brand forcibly shook himself out of the nostalgic reverie. Shame on me, he thought. Those days were bad for me... not to mention for my opponents. The last thing I want to do is backslide into the person I was back then. Still, it was nice to see something pleasant come of the talents he had honed in those arenas.

He'd already told Julian he would be there for this dinner; now he was taking the stairs up to the correct floor. He'd been googling famous regional dishes to try, and hoped the catering would include seafood. Brand could absolutely go for some crab cakes right now.