The entirety of a feud, every second of it, every insult uttered, every “accidental” touching meant to taunt and tantalize, is reforged, recast, and set to flame in the form of glares between rivals when they finally embrace. Within each pair set to gaze, is hate framed by barely restrained tears of excitement and intensity, and desire bent and broken by a loathing, long-stoked and nurtured.
Questions are conveyed and answers given.
Challenges are issued and without hesitation accepted.
Threats are made with promises of reprisal quickly returned.
In no other realm or moment, do eyes say so much. In no other occurrence are the “windows to the soul” asked to so live up to that namesake. For there is always a truly electric silence in the beginning of real sexual combat – for the need to focus is too great for speech, and the call for action too powerful to allow for talk.