She came up to meet him, which was unexpected--the thud of her hitting his chest was painful, and he huffed as the wind was half knocked out of his lungs. It made his would-be winning move far less graceful. He found himself stumbling, trying to get to his feet without falling over, given that the target half-beneath him was moving.

The moment he got his hind hooves planted, he shoved forward. He was still aware enough of the rules that he kept his head up--no goring attempt this time. But his shove was chest-first, an attempt to knock Chaos-Eleven away with an unrelenting follow-up to his previous slam. If he were very lucky maybe she'd... fall down, or give up, or something.

Honestly he wasn't too sure what the win conditions were, here.

Abaddon froze. He hesitated, snorting and blinking, tail swishing, looking every bit the stupid animal. It's over? he thought, confused. But--right. Wrestling. Not murder. Not bloodshed.

He allowed himself to relax, and noted with some surprise that V-Chaos-Eleven was being... cool. She wasn't mad or holding a grudge, and... he almost felt bad, somehow. Almost. Not really, though. He'd won, and that was cool, too.

"...Thank you," he managed, the unfamiliar words feeling foreign on his tongue. And then--"You too. I will... watch for you. If you want to talk. Some other time?"

Abaddon wasn't certain how to make friends, but he sort of liked this one. He wasn't flirting, probably.

He awaited a response, for a moment. Then he looked around, grimacing and flexing where she had hit. Dust plumed as he made his way out, clearing the arena for the next match.